Relationships
by Dorryza
Summary: A series of short stories detailing relationships between different champions of the League of Legends. No, it's not all romantic. Full description inside.
1. Prologue

Firstly guys, I'd like to thank you for clicking on this and reading these words. It means a lot to me =D

Secondly, I'd like to give credit where credit is due. The idea for 2 random champs and a relationship between them came from the League of Legends forums, where there is a chart for you to create your own pairing, and there are also more stories. If you want to go to it, just PM me and I'll send you the link.

Thirdly, This does not have to be romantic. Now, this doesn't mean there isn't no romance, but this isn't going to be always love. For example, the first two are decidedly non-romantic.

Alright, that was a bit long for an Author's Note, so I posted it here as a prologue, so you'd all understand what was going on. Now allow the stories to begin!

-note- if you're interested in actually reading the stories and don't want any of the nitty gritty details, then just skip this next part-

Due to confusion, this is how this story works.

You get a numbered chart of all the champions, and go to a random number generator. take the amount of champions there are, set that as the max in the random number generator. Then, click generate twice. Count down, so you know which 2 champs you got. Then, write a story about a relationship between the two.

A new chart, courtesy of Telemox:

**Male Table**  
1. Alistar  
2. Amumu  
3. Blitzcrank  
4. Brand  
5. Cho'Gath  
6. Corki  
7. Darius  
8. Dr. Mundo  
9. Draven  
10. Ezreal  
11. Fiddlesticks  
12. Fizz  
13. Galio  
14. Gangplank  
15. Garen  
16. Gragas  
17. Graves  
18. Hecarim  
19. Heimerdinger  
20. Jarvan IV  
21. Jax  
22. Jayce  
23. Karthus  
24. Kassadin  
25. Kennen  
26. Kha'Zix  
27. Kog'Maw  
28. Lee Sin  
29. Malphite  
30. Malzahar  
31. Maokai  
32. Master Yi  
33. Mordekaiser  
34. Nasus  
35. Nautilus  
36. Nocturne  
37. Nunu  
38. Olaf  
39. Pantheon  
40. Rammus  
41. Renekton  
42. Rengar  
43. Rumble  
44. Ryze  
45. Shaco  
46. Shen  
47. Singed  
48. Sion  
49. Skarner  
50. Swain  
51. Talon  
52. Taric  
53. Teemo  
54. Trundle  
55. Tryndamere  
56. Twisted Fate  
57. Twitch  
58. Udyr  
59. Urgot  
60. Varus  
61. Veigar  
62. Viktor  
63. Vladimir  
64. Volibear  
65. Warwick  
66. Wukong  
67. Xerath  
68. Xin Zhao  
69. Yorick  
70. Zed  
71. Ziggs  
72. Zilean

**Female Table**  
1. Ahri  
2. Akali  
3. Anivia  
4. Annie  
5. Ashe  
6. Caitlyn  
7. Cassiopeia  
8. Diana  
9. Elise  
10. Evelynn  
11. Fiora  
12. Irelia  
13. Janna  
14. Karma  
15. Katarina  
16. Kayle  
17. LeBlanc  
18. Leona  
19. Lulu  
20. Lux  
21. Miss Fortune  
22. Morgana  
23. Nidalee  
24. Orianna  
25. Poppy  
26. Riven  
27. Sejuani  
28. Shyvana  
29. Sivir  
30. Sona  
31. Soraka  
32. Syndra  
33. Tristana  
34. Vayne  
35. Vi  
36. Zyra

The max number would be 108 (or 36 if you want a story with two 'females', 72 if u want a story with two 'males').

Requests- I've generally been lenient about requests. No guarantees to write, but I won't bite your head off if you ask.

As for lemons built off these relationships, they go into the big-daddy story seeing as I want to keep this particular story rated T- you can either find the story through my profile, or in a "link" chapter.

Happy reading,

-Dorryza


	2. His Last Command

Being a statue, Galio didn't sleep. He had no reason for it. He required no physical rest. He also didn't need any of the other things other champions required, such as food, amusement, and *ahem* physical activities. His purpose was to guard and protect whomever his master had decreed, and with that task eternally unfinished in the demise of the great Durand, the living stone had nothing to do.

Nothing besides dwelling upon his past failures, that is.

_A quiet forest with a beat path winding through it. A small caravan, with a dozen Demacian soldiers standing guard over an old man, wise and weathered, as well as his stone gargoyle._

_The absolute picture of peace._

_Disrupted when twenty of Noxus' assassins stepped out of the forest, arrows and swords flashing, men screaming, dying._

_In only two seconds, the Demacian escort- annihilated. The Noxians- only 2 with flesh wounds. A statue, standing protectively over the quivering form of his master._

_The Noxians charged._

_"Master", Galio growled as he blocked a spear. "Get out of here. These Noxians-" Galio abruptly stopped as he suddenly hurled himself to the side, knocking over his master, but in the process, hurling him out of the way of an otherwise fatal arrow. _

_Galio turned to face his master, the great craftsman Durand. "Master, are you alright?"_

_"I'm-" Durand's voice, before this so strong, deep, powerful, suddenly stopped as his eyes widened, and Galio turned behind him. He saw a Noxian assassin with a broadsword leap into the air, to finish the statue and his master. _

_At least he was about to, and one of the gargoyle's wings arced to Galio's side before firmly smacking the would-be killer a good 10 feet to Galio's right, before he hit a tree with bone-shattering impact. _

_A cough behind him. A small thud as a body hit the ground._

_Galio turned around in horror. A thin and scarred face stared back at him, his beloved master in front of him, pierced by the dual rapiers held by the killer's face._

_"Regards from the Ducoteau family," the man said as he jumped- assisted by magic- above the trees, Galio losing sight within seconds. _

_Galio simply watched, as his master's lifeblood ebbed out onto the grass. Then-_

_A lithe fox, white lustrous coat, runs up to his master. It's obviously no threat as it whines and pokes at Durand anxiously. Galio watches as Durand's face slowly melds into a smile, and as he lifts his hand, summoning the last of his magic, and the fox slowly... changes. Into a Human female. She runs off into the forest. Thought nothing of the encounter. _

_Galio turned back, touching his master's face. _

_"Galio," whispered his dying master. " _

_Galio leaned in closer._

_"Protect..." Durand gurgled- blood coming out of his mouth. He fall silent, his last command unfinished. But Galio still will fulfill that last command to the best of his ability. _

_"I will protect," Galio said stoicly. _

_Protect_... Galio mused over in his head. His master's final command. But what could it possibly mean? At the time, he'd assumed to protect Durand's broken body, but perhaps...

Just then, he heard the bell tolling. A new champion had been admitted into the league. Galio's mind simply processed the information- he was stone, and could outlast any of these mortals. He couldn't care less.

Or so he told himself.

Galio, nursing melancholy thoughts, still ended up slowly flying towards the judging chamber.

Ahri walked into the judging chamber, slowly, sure in her knowledge. Seducing a summoner to know what occurred here was simple, and it appeared the room only replayed a certain memory of yours. Easy, and worth it to enter the League.

She entered the absolute darkness, only to suddenly see again. It is a forest, split by a small dirt path, where an absolute slaughter is occurring. Ah- so they chose this memory to 'test' her with.

She recalled all of the events with clarity- her running away at the first sight of blood, coming back once things were quiet. She remembered seeing the stone statue, oddly placed at a path in a faraway forest, and the dying man bleeding out in its shade.

She feeling the pain, sadness, the sorrow, running up to the man in curiosity. She remembered admiring his beautiful body, the beautiful crafted bodies of all the people around her.

She remembered wishing she had a body like that.

Then, she remembered the agony and pain of the transformation. And the astonishment. She ran in fear. Her fox mate didn't recognize her. She ran, far, quickly, sobbing all the while.

She remembered her first mating, her first kill, her first soul, the beginnings of her guilt.

She endured the question, answered what was expected of her ("To become truly human"), and walked into the light.

The first thing she saw was a floating gargoyle of all things. It seemed familiar... like she'd just seen it... wait!

Galio floated to the entrance, just as the doors were starting to open. He sees a human female with distinct foxlike features. She looked familiar... like he'd just seen her... wait!

Galio now knew what Durand meant when he said, "Protect". He saw the delicate features of the woman before him, and knew that though she was powerful, she was fragile.

Just like his master.

And Galio would follow his master's last command to the last letter.

* * *

A/N So there's the first one.

Also, I write because of reviews! please review- the more you review, the more motivated I will be, and the more I'll write. So review!

Also, the second one is being written as I speak.


	3. Fire and Ice

Note- YAY ITS A REVIEW! 3 Thx Waddlebuff

so, just for the dual epicness of dual reviews, I got this chapter out.

-oh also, I forgot the disclaimer. *looks at Rammus on a leash*

me: I don't own anything here except for the (rather finicky -.-) plot. Riot owns all champs places blah blah blah, right rammus?

Rammus: ok.

* * *

The Institute of War was divided into 4 residential sections: the Western wing for Demacia and her allies, the Eastern wing for Noxus and her allies, the Northern wing for neutral countries, and the Southern wing for the Summoners.

However, a design oversight resulted in the Eastern and Northern wings sharing a corridor to the main building. The corridor, although ornately decorated and quite wide, had been the scene of more than one tense standoff.

It was though this corridor where Ashe was thinking, as she slowly meandered her way to the Mess hall for the morning's breakfast, a thoughtful, yet extremely sad expression on her face.

Ashe wanted children. It wasn't simply because Freljord needed an heir, but simply for the contentment of seeing little bundles of joy bounce around the Freljord palace. She and Tryndamere had been trying for a few months now, but Ashe still hadn't concieved. In desperation they had sought out a doctor, and the result was something any aspiring young mother dreads to hear.

Ashe was barren.

Ashe simply couldn't conceive. There would be no children running around, no heir.

She was devastated.

Ashe had sat sobbing in the bed that the royal couple shared, Tryndamere trying but failing to calm her. He'd finally managed to convince her to perhaps, eat some breakfast. Maybe she'd feel better.

Yeah, right.

But Ashe, playing the dutiful wife, obeyed her husband, got up, made herself semi-presentable (at least Tryndamere said she was beautiful as ever), and slowly made her way out of the Northern wing.

As she thought her melancholy thoughts, Ashe slowly became aware of intense crying coming from far off into the distance. She narrowed her eyes, and retraced her steps back to where the corridors diverged, one leading to the Northern wing, and one leading to the Eastern.

It was here that Ashe realized the crying was coming from the Eastern wing, as well as a distinct wail.

"_Waahhhh, Tibbers!"_

That could only mean one thing. Annie was in trouble.

Suddenly breaking into a sprint, Ashe ran towards the commotion, garnering wary looks from other champions who'd ignored Annie's plight.

After running what seemed like miles through the Black and Red hallways, Ashe came to find Annie's room, where the noise was coming from. There, she found a horrifying sight.

Katarina and Shaco were tossing Tibbers in teddy bear form between them, with Annie scurrying around trying to catch him, but Katarina and Shaco simply tossed him again. Judging by the scorch marks around the room, Annie had tried tossing fireballs, but it seemed Katarina and Shaco had just teleported out of the way. Tears were streaming out of Annie's now red eyes, while Shaco and Katarina were laughing- cackling in the case of Shaco.

None of them noticed Ashe. That is, until Ashe's hand swiped upwards and snatched Tibbers out of the air before Katarina could catch it.

Katarina turned around, preparing to see Cassiopeia join in the fun, but narrowed her eyes as she realized who'd come to ruin her fun.

"Frost Archer," she spat out, "What gives you the _right_ to trespass in Noxus' quarters?"

Ashe's eyes narrowed as well, giving her the appearance of a hawk. "How about the torture of a little girl."

The two women glared at each other, emerald to sapphire, for what seemed like hours but was really minutes until Katarina uttered a short "_bah_" and stomped out of the room. Shaco, likewise muttered something about ruining fun, and disappeared in a puff of smoke.

Annie, however, was sitting on the ground, staring up at Ashe with wide emerald eyes, before starting to sob quietly. Ashe knelt down and gently gave Annie Tibbers and fished around for a hankerchief, before finding a small piece of cloth on Annie's table and handing it to the little girl, trying to stop her tears.

Annie stopped after two minutes, although she still sniffled a bit. She looked up at Ashe again. "They come here every morning Miss Ashe..." she said. "Every morning, they come and take my Tibbers!" With that, Annie burst into tears again, with Ashe having to find another cloth to dry Annie's tears with, seeing as the last one was already soaked. Finding a second one, Ashe knelt by the little girl and patted her back at the same time, crooning nonsensical words, desperately trying to calm the girl down.

Annie was still trying to force words out. "They, they *sniff* 're gonna come *sniffle* tomorrow morn *sniffs* morning too..." Tears still streamed down Annie's face.

Trying to think of something that would make Annie calm down, Ashe said, "Well I could take Tibbers to my quarters in the Northern wing, and those meanies won't be able to get at him then."

Annie's eyes widened as her tears abruptly stopped. "really?" she asked in a high pitched voice.

Ashe nodded. "really," she said with finality.

Annie brightened up immediately. "Thanks so much that's the nicest thing anyone's ever done here I love you you're awesome the awesomeest person _ever_ and- wait." Annie now scrunched up her brow deep in thought. "I can't sleep without Tibbers."

Annie thought some more, before looking up again. "Can _I _sleep in your quarters tonight Miss Ashe?"

Ashe, still trying to sort out the massive amount of words Annie had thrown at her moments before, suddenly froze. "Okay... sure, come up after dinner, alright?"

"Yayyyy! Thanks Miss Ashe!" Annie exclaimed as she skipped down the hallways, smiles on her face- so happy she started scorching the floor beneath her.

That evening, Tryndamere, after a night of drinking, opened the doors to the bedroom he shared with Ashe.

The first thing he saw was a pile of slightly scorched bedsheets in a corner.

The second thing he saw was two figured curled up together on the bed.

He was about to yell at Ashe for cheating on him, when he realized the second figure was much too small for Ashe to cheat on, unless she was into midgets.

He threw open the curtains, and allowed the moonlight so shine in. What he saw was a sight that could melt any man's heart, even of the heart of a ruthless barbarian king.

Ashe was sitting up on a pillow, holding Annie tightly, with a contented smile on her face. Annie was quietly drooling, her face resting on Ashe's chest, but with one arm- holding Tibbers- slung around Ashe's neck, and the other tugging on a lock of Ashe's silver hair.

But what really put the icing on the cake was the words Annie were muttering in her sleep.

"I love you mommy."


	4. Faces in the Night, Part 1

Note- Has been revised.

* * *

Akali was walking towards her quarters after her evening meditations. She was currently stalking though the Piltover hallway, lined with techmaturgical devices so commonly made and pioneered in Piltover. The plaques on the doors led to rooms occupied by certain heroes of Piltover- there was Ezreal, behind that door rested Janna, and one only needed a nose to smell the experiments taking place behind the somewhat melted and beaten door of Heimerdinger.

As Akali continued down the hallway, unconsciously melding with the shadows, she began to hear something. Akali stopped in confusion. The sounds became clearer. A quiet sniffling in the background. That, and repeated words, murmured so quietly they were almost unhearable, and certainly undecipherable.

Akali was about to continue onwards- due to the nature of the champions of the league, nightmares were common (Kassadin came to mind)- but she realized which door she had stopped in front of.

The plaque read:

_Caitlyn_

_Odd_, Akali thought, _Why would the sheriff have such nightmares?_

Akali pushed the door open, and was greeted with the sight of Caitlyn in her bedclothes, huddled in a corner, staring out with wide eyes. Tears dripped from her brown eyes, her brunette hair spilling everywhere as she repeated the words Akali heard outside.

"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry."

Akali blinked in confusion. The Sheriff, usually cool and collected in the battlefield, was a broken, suffering woman in the darkness of her own room.

Caitlyn looked up, and seemed to notice Akali for the first time. "A-Akali? What are you doing here?" Caitlyn at her hands. "Are you here to punish me?"

Akali stepped forwards, hand held up in a non-threatening gesture and flipped on the light switch, saying "No, I'm not here to punish you- I just heard you from outside. What's wrong?"

"Their blood..." Caitlyn held up her right hand in horror. "It's right there."

Akali now knew what was happening. "Those people you had to kill in the past? They had to die."

"No!" Caitlyn shouted, "you don't understand!" Her voice dropped back down to a hoarse whisper. "There was a man."

Caitlyn's eyes closed as she relived the memory. "A man, name was Jonathan Cid. He was blackmailing, sending death threats, bending rules in unacceptable ways. I confronted him late one night."

Caitlyn's voice slowly rose in pitch as her tale continued. "He refused to listen, and pulled a pistol. I shot him."

Akali moved forwards, putting her hand on Caitlyn's shoulder, trying to do anything to stop Caitlyn's suffering, but Caitlyn pushed her away, to continue, "The next morning, they brought him out of his office. It looked like a murder."

Caitlyn was almost screeching at this point. "His children asked me to avenge his death and kill his murderer!"

Looking at her hands in newfound disgust, Caitlyn's eyes opened again, letting out another flood of tears. "There are others of those stories. Hundreds." She looked at Akali with widened eyes. " I'm a murderess. No better than the scum I hunt. And the ones that I... murder... haunt me, every day."

Akali slowly walked over to Caitlyn, putting her hands on Caitlyn's shoulders. "This was my first lesson as the Fist of Shadow. We do that which must be done."

Even as Caitlyn shook her head, Akali continued. "Tell me, would this... Cid, have ruined other people's buisnesses?" Caitlyn slowly nodded. "Did he kill anyone?" Caitlyn nodded again. "Would he have killed you?" Caitlyn shook her head, "No! That's... that's not the point. I still killed someone, a loving father, with two beautiful daughters, a strong, married son. Those faces, too, chase me." Caitlyn looked down again, unable to face Akali's gaze. "They all-"

Akali grabbed Caitlyn's head, forcing her to look into her eyes. "And who would've haunted you if you hadn't? The innocents he would've killed." Caitlyn slowly nodded, tears still slowly dripping, but stopping. "We do that which must be done. We both understand that."

Caitlyn slowly nodded. "Yes... it may not feel good, but... it had to happen." Caitlyn took a deep breath, calming herself. "I-I'm feeling a bit better now."

Akali, nodded, taking that for a dismissal. She opened the door and turned off the lights, gazing one last time at Caitlyn- who was slowly clambering into bed- and closed the door, only to hear a strangled choke. After opening the door hurriedly and turning on the lights with a flick of her wrist, Akali saw Caitlyn. Said sheriff couldn't even breath, and it appeared she was trying to fend off something with her right hand, and attempting to pry something off her neck with her left. Akali took a leap forwards, wrenching Caitlyn's hand off of her neck, making sure Caitlyn knew she was there. Caitlyn immediately relaxed.

Then came the words. "I can't sleep without someone. Someone who's here- someone who can show me what's true and what isn't." Akali blinked in surprise as Caitlyn continued. "Can you... stay the night?"

Akali thought for a second. After all, this occasion would be quite awkward. However, she remembered her own motto.

_We do that which must be done_.

Akali nodded, with a quick ,"yes". She twisted her body, pulling out a rug she carried with her at all times, and prepared to spend the night in meditation on Caitlyn's floor. She turned out the lights, and Caitlyn gasped again. Akali's eyes, before closed in her search for inner peace, immediately shot open, before standing up, taking a step, and putting her hand on Caitlyn's shoulder. Caitlyn took a deep breath, nodded in the darkness. Akali took her hand away, only to hear Caitlyn cry out this time.

Akali realized Caitlyn's problem- she didn't really know if Akali was there. She needed some way of reassuring her. Physical contact was needed for her to relax. So Akali, much to the surprise of Caitlyn, clambered into a spot in Caitlyn's bed next to her.

The two's arms and legs pressed together. Caitlyn relaxed, breathing in and out slowly, probably getting the best rest she'd gotten in months.

After several minutes, Caitlyn's chest started rhythmically rising and falling- it appeared she'd fallen asleep. Akali, however, still lay in the bed, eyes open, still alert.

A voice rose up from the other side of the bed. "Akali, thanks for coming and staying with me. No one else-"

The voice was silenced by a finger on the lips as Akali rose up from her spot to look down at Caitlyn. The sheriff's brown hair framed her face, eyes still wider than average, but still more relaxed than Akali had seen in the past few minutes.

This woman was forced to endure so much- kill, hunt, suffer- yet was forced to endure it all alone. Akali had been supported by her mother, the Kinkou, even her fellows in the Triumverate when things got hard. However, Akali marveled at how Caitlyn had managed to last thus far by herself.

Akali decided to put an end to that. She lowered her face, until their noses were touching and Akali's lips brushed Caitlyn's.

"I'll make sure of it." Akali's face dipped down by a centimeter, and the two shared a sweet kiss. Akali nearly gasped- Caitlyn tasted sweet, like honey.

Akali pulled back, both girls gasping for breath, Caitlyn's eyes wide as saucers.

Akali began to lower herself again. Right before the two met for the second time, she whispered, quietly, but loud enough to be heard by Caitlyn.

"You'll never have to be alone again."

* * *

Alright, well I've dug myself into a hole here. It seems it's set up perfectly for a lemon... and I really don't know about lemons.

AKA never written one, never experienced one (yeah, I'm the poor girlfriendless gamer)... etc.

So, no lemons. At least not yet- maybe when I build up my confidence.

-Note #2- now has a part 2! Chapter 13, Faces in the Night pt 2. Go read it! No, it's not a lemon.


	5. Cycle of Blood

So, I was trying to build a bit of humor in this one. Let me know how it turns out.

-note- Femanon and Delphes Sanctuary, here's the stuff you were looking for. Depends on my creative juices, I may accept requests.

* * *

Vladimir walked slowly in the darkened hallways of the Institute, attempting to remember why he was down here in the first place. Shaking his head at the memory- and his incredulity- he continued walking. There was the plaque for Malzahar, and the plaque that was half-melted with caustic enzymes was probably Kog'Maw's door.

_Ahh_, Vladimir thought as he stopped in front of the door that read, Cho'Gath. _Here we are_.

Not wanting to startle the void beast (and unwittingly become its dinner), Vladimir knocked several times, and the hurried to the end of the corridor. This way, in case Cho'Gath decided it was hungry, he would have ample warning, and could dissolve into a pool of blood before running away.

Then he heard Cho'Gath's voice saying, "Vladimir, is that you? Come on in old chap!"

Sighing in relief- it appeared Cho'Gath had already eaten recently- Vladimir opened the door, and slowly walked inside.

Never having been in Cho'Gath's quarters before, Vladimir didn't quite know what to expect. Maybe a nightmarish pit, or a pile of bodies for the void monster to feed on. What he saw simply stunned him.

To his left, he saw an entrance to a bedroom, with a rather massive bed, as well as a wardrobe containing several (at lest 4) suits. To his right, Vladimir saw, for all intents and purposes a monacle collection, while to his front was Gentleman Cho'Gath, fully suited up, sitting at a tea table, and busy pouring liquid from teapot into a cup.

"Do come and take a seat now," said Cho'Gath. "And do drink some of this wonderful spiced blood Kog'Maw managed to rustle up, good lad. Please, my home is yours. Anything less than that would be uncivil!"

_Mmm_, thought Vladimir as he sipped some of the blood. _Cho'Gath may be a bloodthirsty void monster, but he sure knows how to treat his guests_!

"Now Vladimir old chap, thank you for accepting my invitation!", Cho'Gath continued. _Oh my_, he thought_, does he look __**juicy**_.

Meanwhile, Vladimir was almost salivating as he realized the girth of Cho'Gath. _Why, he must have such exotic blood_. Vladimir shook his head- he was a guest here after all- and then spoke. "It was an honor to be invited here to a true gentleman's home."

Cho'Gath beamed, but his gaze traveled downwards. _My my, his legs look absolutely delicious_. "Wait... Vladimir..."

Vladimir, however, was looking longingly at a small cut on Cho'Gath's arm, small amounts of crimson leaking out. His tongue slipped out, and Vladimir imagined tasting that blood. He paid no attention to Cho'Gath trying to fight off the urge to snack on this delicious little morsel in front of it.

Suddenly Cho'Gath snapped, roaring, "I'll bite your legs off!", and snapped at Vladimir's legs. Vladimir, still suspicious, suddenly sunk into a pool of blood, before transfusing the blood leaking out of the cut into himself. _Just as I thought- spicy and exotic_.

"You cheeky little fellow!" roared Cho'Gath. "Let us settle this like true Gentlemen!"

Vladimir rose from his pool, eyes narrowed, heady with excitement. "The rivers will run red," he agreed.

"_Quiet!_" Cho'Gath roared. He swiped at Vladimir three times. Vladimir dodged backwards, but he didn't expect the spikes, which cut him in several places.

Rather than retreat, Vladimir simply licked his lips and transfused more blood from Cho'Gath- which, in turn, cause Cho'Gath the roar louder and become more frenzied.

Malzahar, hearing the commotion, opened Cho'Gath's door, and saw Vladimir and Cho'Gath busy destroying the abode while trying to hit each other. Thinking quickly, Malzahar summoned two voidlings and tossed one each at the hungry pair. Cho'Gath quickly gobbled up his, while Vladimir enjoyed slowly draining the life and blood out of his.

After all the exertion, Cho'Gath collapsed down, before cracking open one eyelid and saying quickly, "terribly sorry old chap, got too hungry. But, I'd be happy to have you over when I'm not hungry."

Vladimir thought about it. "Sure", he decided. "But I'll leave you now."

"Ahh, of course," said Cho'Gath, "Pip pip, Cheerio!"

Several days later, Vladimir walked up to Cho'Gath's door again, knocked again, and repeated his same routine as before. Cho'Gath called for him to enter again, and Vladimir, somehow never believing his memory, would always be astonished by the immaculate, clean apartment Cho'Gath called his home.

_Tasty..._ thought Cho'Gath as he stared at Vladimir.

_How exotically delicious..._ thought Vladimir as he stared at Cho'Gath.

And so the cycle continues...


	6. A Light in the Dark, Part 1

Thanks to the ridiculous number of people requesting LuxXNocturne, here it is.

Note- this will be part of a more than one chapter story. I just wanted to post what I had already, just to let you guys in on the progress.

-Note #2, I will be changing Lux, a lot. Maybe more than what you're comfortable with. just a heads up =P

* * *

An explosion of colors, sound, and feelings.

It was a typical clash between the Noxian and Demacian champions on Summoner's Rift. Lux pursed her lips in concentration, tossing a Light Binding, catching Talon, but only to have Katarina dash past with her speed dubbed Shunpo. Turning around to face her brother, Lux quickly tossed her wand, bending light and deflecting several of Katarina's knives as Garen readied himself to strike for Katarina's arm, stopping the relentless stream of knives.

Meanwhile, Xin Zhao was duking it out with Sion, Axe and Spear adding to the symphony of death at the river. Galio already lay crumbled in stone, Cassiopeia in a similar state beside him. Poppy sat resting on a tree, her hands trying to stem the relentless flow of blood, opened up when Talon had pierced her Femoral Artery in a last gesture of defiance before she rammed him into a wall, destroying his face. Her head tilted forwards, taking one last shuddering breath before falling sideways onto the ground.

Lux shook her head, looking forwards again. Sion had lost the duel, and was now running away, with Xin chasing after him, but unable to catch him. Lux threw a ball of light, slowing down Sion's legs, allowing Xin to catch up and victoriously lunge, putting his spear through Sion's neck, and felling the undead brute.

Lux, meanwhile had looked around. She noticed her brother's body lying, pierced by daggers in multiple places. Turning around, she saw the trail of blood left by a badly wounded Katarina.

Telling her summoner to allow her sight in a particular spot, Lux saw Katarina trying to run through the jungle back to the safely her spawning pool.

Lux took a deep breath, and spun her baton until it faced Katarina. Light built around it while Lux debated silently- _to not say it would arouse suspicion_. The light suddenly arced out, with Lux shouting "Demacia!" as loud as she could.

Katarina's entire left side as covered in horrible burns as she slowly tumbled to the side.

Xin, favoring his right foot, slowly limped back towards their side's fountain, before a shroud of darkness suddenly descended.

Nocturne soared out of the darkness, spinning, and lacerating Xin three times. Xin, already wounded from his duel with Sion, slumped forwards, blood beginning to pool around him within seconds.

Lux, slowly backed away, tossing a Light Binding before sprinting for the safety of her tower.

Nocturne, however, had simply deflected her spell with a shroud of darkness, before leaping up and knocking Lux over, an umbra blade positioned over a weak spot over her battle armor.

Lux's eyes rolled in confusion as Nocturne did not cut. Instead, he dove inside her mind, Lux powerless to respond. He searched for her deepest nightmare- and rocked back, stunned as he found it. He immediately drifted away, leaving her without nothing but a bruise when she had fallen on the ground.

After the match (it was a close fought one, but the Demacians prevailed in the end), Lux muttered goodbyes and quickly hurried down one of the lesser-traveled hallways. She had to find Nocturne, ensure her secret did not get out-

_Bam!_

Shaking her head, Lux looked up, gasping as she saw the very being she was seeking out. Nocturne's white orbs glared down at her.

"Lady of Luminosity," Nocturne said with obvious contempt at her title. "After seeing what your greatest nightmare is-"

"Please," Lux begged. "Don't tell anyone!"

Nocturne's white orbs-for-eyes narrowed. "I can help you achieve what you desire."

Lux gasped- was it truly possible?

Nocturne continued. "I can ensure that you never have to see the institute, or have to be bound to Demacia, again." He paused for a moment. "But you will need to help me."

Lux was truly stunned. Demacia had taken her when she was little- her parents giving her away. She was treated harshly- her memories of those days only ended in cruelty as she didn't meet the requests of her teachers. She was forced to infiltrate Noxus- the most dangerous infiltration order ever given. Her nation hadn't cared about her- she was only a tool.

In this League of Legends, too, she was merely a tool for Demacia. To advance their petty divisions with Noxus, Lux was forced to fight.

She hated every second of it. She would be willing to do anything to leave- she'd already been lashed by her own parents, Garen looking on impassively, for trying to leave the academy.

Her decision made, Lux nodded once and looked at Nocturne.

"What do we have to do?"


	7. A Light in the Dark, Part 2

Second part of the Noc and Lux pairing. Hope you guys like it.

Note- this actually took a lot out of me to write. I don't know why- I just- it was hard for me.

Just read it. And don't forget to review!

* * *

Sam yawned loudly. He was down here in the League's dungeons earning a few extra silver pieces 'guarding' Nocturne's cage, in case the monster ever got out. It didn't matter that he would even stop the raging monster from goring him within ten seconds flat.

But luckily for him, the summoners' magic were extremely potent. They had assured him that Nocturne would never get out, not without extremely talented outside help. And who would ever be crazy enough to let him out?

Secure in this knowledge, and his trust in the summoners, Sam felt safe enough to fall asleep.

During his sleep, he dreamed a dream that he relived nearly every day, and was glad to see that never happened in real life.

Sam saw his children, toddling girls of three and six. He was running to them, and they were suddenly struck down by streak of darkness. It turned to him. Sam saw the bright orbs of Nocturne's face.

Sam suddenly sat up. Was that a wind- oh, there was nothing. He was being paranoid. _No one would ever come down_ he thought as he lay back down. Inevitably seeing his children dead again.

He closed his eyes.

"I'll be sure to seek them out."

Sam's eyes flew open, only to see nothing but utter darkness. And his children. He screamed wordlessly in terror. He began to turn around, but a cruel, curved blade was thrust forwards.

Sam's eyes closed, never to open again.

* * *

Lux knelt by Nocturne's cage, slowly unlocking the magical enchantments binding the magical metal together, holding the nightmare in it.

"Nocturne-" Lux started. When the Nightmare's eyes were faced towards her, she continued nervously. "What will you do when you're outside?"

"What will you?" asked Nocturne.

Lux looked down, temperarily stopping her work. "I don't know," she admitted. "I just want to be away from here, away from the killing and death, away from the stifling banners of the 'City of Light." Lux snorted in derision. "Anywhere but here..." she repeated. She looked back at Nocturne questioningly.

"I only want freedom," replied the darkness. "I wish to be out of these cages, doing what I wish to do- not be stuck in this cage, only to be led out to fight like a pit bull, for the entertainment and petty desires of powerful men."

"I wish to be free."

The cage door swung open, as Lux cut through the final enchantment.

Nocturne drifted out, and wordlessly drifted down the hallway where both their freedom's lay. A hallway that, Lux realized, still had a guard.

She sprinted up to Nocturne, but it was too late. She saw the Nightmare Embodied viciously stab the guard in the back of the throat, blood spurting out, only to go right through the smoke that was Nocturne.

Lux stared at the corpse in horror, Nocturne just cleaning off his Umbra blades nonchalantly. After a moment, Nocturne looked up, staring at her with those white orbs, and spoke.

"Ah, it feels good to kill again."

At this, Lux froze. She debated leaving right now, freedom be damned.

Then Nocturne spoke up. "The reason you aren't like that" he gestures towards the gutted man and the growing pool of blood on the stone ledge "is because you helped me."

And Lux realized this was more than Demacia had ever done for her. She'd gone to the academy, stolen Noxus' information, and what was the reward? Endless killing- and dying- in the Field of Justice to further Jarvan III's agenda.

Lux nodded once, and slowly walked out of the small room, and continued down the hallway.

She rounded a corner and was about to take another step- before being stopped in her tracks by a pointy object in front of her face. She looked up in surprise.

"Lady of Luminosity" said Jarvan IV impassively in front of her as he pointed his massive lance in her direction. "I charge you with treason and murder."

Lux's eyes hardened. Ever since she'd refused his marriage proposal -much to the consternation of her parents and himself- Jarvan had always been after her. She slapped the point of the lance out of its position right in front of her nose, took two steps forward, and quickly spat in his face.

Jarvan, now not cool anymore, but raging angry, said in a voice with a deadly undercurrent, "Summoners- restrain her".

Lux was suddenly bound by invisible chains, blocking her movement, and not allowing her to cast spells. She was helpless.

Then, the room grew darker. The torches slowly went out, one by one. The summoners looked around in fear, Jarvan simply glancing at the hallway without emotion. Suddenly, his eyes widened and he clutched his head, rolling on the ground in apparent agony.

"No! Demacia will not burn!" he shouted.

Nocturne flew out of the shadows perching over him. "Yes it will, by your own incompetence...", his eyes inspiring terror, reflecting the deepest fear of Jarvan's- that he would cause the destruction of Demacia and the demise of the Lightshield Dynasty.

Jarvan was now whimpering on the floor, weakly whispering "no" repeatedly.

Nocturne looked up, seeing the summoners, but it was too late. They managed to shackle one of his arms to the wall, and as he struggled, they managed to pin the shadowy trail that was his lower body to the floor. Finally, he was totally bound, helpless, howling as he was taken back to his cage.

* * *

2 days later.

Lux and Nocturne were both in a cell. Nocturne was decided to be too dangerous to be kept alive, and he was to be granted punishment by the cruelest form- infinite imprisonment in his nexus crystal, without even a physical body. Lux's fate, on the other hand, was yet to be decided by several families, the head judges of the city-state, and the crown itself.

Suddenly, a guard arrived. It appeared Lux's judgment had been made.

The word came.

"Death."

Lux shivered. How had this gone so terribly wrong? How?

Two hours after that, Lux and Nocturne where in a wagon, completely bound and helpless.

Lux spoke up. "Thanks, Nocturne."

The Nightmare's dual phosphorus orbs slowly turned to face her.

Lux forged on. "You came to my aid, when I needed it, and you could've ran. Just... thanks."

Nocturne spoke up in that chilling voice of his. "After all, you were the one who'd helped me."

Lux smiled weakly at him. "Just... thanks."

Nocturne's orbs closed for a second. The word sounded strangled, unused, foreign. But eventually, he forced it out. "Thank you..."

The wagon abruptly stopped. Lux could hear the jeers of the crowd outside. Two guards opened the flaps, and without any expression, led Nocturne out of the wagon.

Nocturne was completely bound. He couldn't move. The guards had to push him- he floated naturally- towards the gallows.

There, lay waiting were six of Demacia's greatest skilled summoners. Nocturne looked up at them.

As the crowd cheered, the summoners started weaving a great spell. It took minutes, but Nocturne's body was slowly sucked, howling, into the crystal- every moment of it extreme agony. Finally, the howling stopped, and a small crystal dropped unnoticed onto the executioner's block.

As Lux heard the howl stop, her first and only tear dropped. She quickly wiped it away, and got out of the wagon proudly, her head held high. Without any 'assistance' from the guards, she quickly made her way to the top of the gallows, and lay down on the cutting block, where her head was to be severed.

Waiting, as was his job as Chief Executioner, Garen stood. Yet, for the first time ever, he showed signs of sadness, regret. He looked at the massive sword in his hands, then back up at Lux.

"I'm sorry Luxanna," he mouthed soundlessly.

He raised the sword.

Lux's fingers clutched at the wood around her. She grasped a stone in her left hand.

Looking at the stone, Lux realized what it was. It was the Nexus fragment that had Nocturne bound in it.

The sword began to descend.

Lux's eyes drank in the last view of her world she would get- Demacia's bright blue pennants, the massive crush of people watching her death- her ears hearing the jeers of the crowd, the whistle of the wind as the sword came down. Her fingers closed, so tightly she could feel the contours and scratches of the stone, imprinted into her left hand.

Lux felt a massive pain in the back of her neck, but still clutched the stone tightly.

She began to think, "What a shame-"

Before-

Oblivion.


	8. Together

-Note- this one's for your Dreaded Rasengan =) Thanks for reading and reviewing so much, it means a lot to me XD

* * *

Lungui.

The name was so beautiful- graceful, easily rolling off of the tongue. Its meaning was once nothing but a word, yet at the same time, something powerful- something great.

It was fitting really. A beautiful name, for a beautiful country.

_One that is now tainted by the shadow of the Noxian flag. _

Xin Zhao scowled as he sat in the small meditative garden in the Institute. The scowl went away immediately- this was a place of peace and serenity, not a place for harboring thoughts of vengance.

He took a deep breath, and plunged back into that state of mind, pushing all thoughts away. He was not thinking- he simply was.

A memory floated into Xin's mind. Then another. They were not memories of his adopted country, not of the dead king Jarvan II.

_Lungui_. The word- name- was rolled around in his mind for what seemed like an eternity. In his mind, he could see the battles- Noxus' flame burning the country, right before Noxus went and burned Ionia. He could hear the sounds of battle, feel the ground tremor from soldiers, taste the terror. From what seemed like miles away, he heard the door to the garden open.

Xin's eyes opened again, and he turned to face the newcomer. Ah, the Blademaster Irelia had arrived. He began to stand.

"No, no, please sit," Irelia said with a dismissive gesture. "I don't wish to interrupt your meditations." She began to sit on the mat,

"No, I was just leaving." Xin replied. His counterence darkened, as he somewhat muttered, "Thoughts of Noxus are not quite conducive to inner peace."

Irelia looked away. "I know what you mean," she said softly, sighing deeply, a deeply sad look on her face. Xin could even notice a tear leaking out of the corner of her right eye.

"I-I'm sorry," stammered Xin. He'd been taught that making a lady cry is the height of evil. He'd also been taught how to remedy that, but that wasn't quite appropriate here...

Xin stepped forwards, offering a convenient handkerchief laying in his pocket. Irelia waved it away, tear gone, face straight again. Had he imagined it?

"And you?" Irelia asked, desperately trying to get the subject off of the Ionian invasion. "What has Noxus done to you?"

Xin's eyes hardened, as he appeared to stare into space. "Have you heard of the great country Lungui?" Irelia nodded. Xin sighed. "I was one of her higher generals."

Irelia gasped. Being on the shore, Lungui and Ionia shared many traditions, peoples, and were close diplomatically. Lungui, she'd heard, suffered much the same fate as the southern parts of Ionia did. This, she supposed, was why Xin shared many Ionian customs, such as meditation. Irelia silently leaned in, eager to listen to more.

"I was captured," Xin said. His face twisted into a expression of disgust. "One of my fellow generals turned traitor, and drove us into an ambush."

Xin's face was now the picture of despair. "My men... They all..." Xin fell quiet, his voice unable to say the words he wished to. He felt a warm hand on his shoulder.

"I know what that feels like," Irelia murmured. "I'm sorry for making you relive that."

Xin shook his head. "The Fleshing was nothing compared to that." He looked up. "Besides, a Demacian does not retreat," he said, quoting the late King Jarvan II, "and that includes from his past." Xin then looked at Irelia with curiosity. "I know what the League told me about you and your stand at the Placidium-"

At this Irelia shook her head. "It was nothing, nothing compared to what others-"

Xin interrupted. "It takes a brave soul to rally an entire nation to fight, and an even braver one to fight alone, as their champion." Xin paused for a bit. "Braver than I ever was," he said, looking down at himself.

"Bah," came out Irelia's response. Xin looked up in surprise. "I fight for Ionia, true. But you fight for your people's memory- you are the champion of Lungui."

Xin, looked thoughtful for a second. "Yes," came the word finally. "Yes, I suppose I am." Xin thought more for a bit. "And it is only right that I avenge their deaths."

"And it is only right, as the 'champion' of Ionia, that I fight Noxus until their last man leaves our soil." Ionia replied.

"Say," she said. "Do you know the old Warrior's pledge?"

Xin looked surprised. "I had thought that the tradition was gone, lost with the people of Lungui."

Irelia laughed heartily. "No, it's flourished in Ionia. Do you know it."

Xin, beginning to get the idea, shook his head. "No," he said, "I will not allow you and yours to be drawn into my own fight for revenge."

"No," Irelia replied with fire in her eyes. "Our fight."

Xin continued to shake his head, while Irelia continued. "Noxus has done horrible things to both of our lands."

Xin was quiet for a second. Then-

"I pledge this upon my honor." Thus he started the Warrior's pledge.

"I pledge this upon my honor." Irelia echoed.

"Your friends are my friends."

"Your family is my family."

"Your rivals are my rivals."

"Your enemies are my enemies."

Xin took a deep breath. "We will face them..."

Irelia and Xin's eyes met, as their mouths moved in unisen.

"Together."


	9. Make 'em understand

Firstly, sorry for my brief hiatus =( I apologize.

Secondly, I'm trying to avoid any obvious pairs. This means no Garen/Katarina people, sorry. Although after Living Nightmare, the whether Lux/Noct is canon debatable... Therefore, sorry Panth/Leona guy, but I don't think it's gonna work =(

Note- this takes place _before_ the particular champions are in the League.

* * *

Shadows, bent and twisted. Lampposts desperately trying to push back the darkness of night, the globes of light engaged in a never-ending struggle against the black.

One shadow twists, disappears.

Another one moves, several feet away. It disappears as well.

The movement is almost impossible to see in the darkness, as it appears the shadows themselves writhe, constantly moving towards a destination.

_Nothing but an assignment_, Talon thought. He thought back to his briefing earlier. _Just a magician called Janna- easy prey_.

He hadn't been told much- only that she was an air mage of some sort, and that she had to be eliminated. That was more than some of the assignments he'd gotten before from General Du Couteau. Talon was sure he'd get her easily. There was a reason he was known as the Blade's Shadow of course.

Slipping in and out of shadows, Talon steadily made his way to Janna's home. No one noticed him- not even the sharp-eyed Sheriff of Piltover with her uncannily piercing eyes and annoying traps everywhere. He'd passed right behind her, and taken one of her bullets in the process. General Du Couteau would be pleased at the Piltoverean Hextechnology.

At last, Talon arrived at Janna's home. It looked surprisingly small, especially for the rather popular Janna, but Talon was sure this was the place- his memory never failed him, and this was surely the address.

Going to the back of the house, Talon carefully oiled the hinges of the back door, and swung it open with practiced silence. His worn leather boots made no sound as Talon made his way up to the bedroom.

Even though the stairs creaked- tested by a perfectly weighted pouch- Talon made no noise as he stepped on the perfect spots, moving to the second floor without making as much noise as a pin drop.

Now the House Layout- ah yes. According to the blueprints- handily stored in Talon's head- the bedroom was two doors down to the right. He repeated the door-opening routine- silently oiling the hinges, and swinging open the door, revealing a room with a bed, a desk in a corner, and a wardrobe in another.

Talon slunk to the bed, where a beautiful blond woman slept. Judging by the lumps in the blankets, she had some great curves, and her face was serene, peaceful- ethereal.

Talon wasn't affected by these things. He only needed to get the job done.

He moving close to her, slowly making sure to not make a sound, his blade coming closer and closer to her throat.

Preparing for the thrust which would end Janna's life, Talon inhaled sharply.

A pair of sapphire orbs shot open.

Inwardly, Talon frowned. This might ruin his clean getaway. Most women tended to stop thinking and simply scream, and that might alert the authorities. Fortunately, that meant that they didn't move to stop him.

His blade suddenly surged forwards, but it suddenly stopped moving. Talon stared stupidly at her left hand holding his right arm, not allowing it to move further. It was a distraction of a millisecond, but he suddenly felt horrible pain in both his crotch and his face, as Janna simultaneously kneed his family jewels and head butted his nose.

Talon gasped in surprise. No normal woman would have that reaction- they all just screamed and tried to push him away. Janna had done something that was not taught, but learned through experience and harsh reality.

Even though this was a serious turn of events- it was clear Janna was not an ordinary mage- Talon still kept his composure. He wrenched his arm out of her grip and disappeared into the darkness surrounding Janna's bed. His hiding spot was not the darkest, uncluttered corner- it was under her desk.

Janna didn't even glance at the corner, but shot forth her right hand. Talon was _in the middle_ of a swirling vortex of air, spinning, battered by books, lights, pens, and planks from her now- destroyed desk.

It was clear to Talon now. The move Janna had used when she woke up wasn't taught in self-defense classes- it was learned on the streets. And the fact that Janna didn't look at the obvious, dark choice meant that she had experience in where thieves and assassins would hide. The answer was obvious, yet somehow confounding.

Janna was a street brat, an outcast- a thief, one who'd had to go to sleep hungry, and always fear for her life, or the next meal.

She was just like him.

Talon's mouth opened, as he lapsed into the vernacular unused for so long. "Youhm a gangah, eh?"

Janna's jaw looked like it was trying to touch her toes, as she let up her vortex in sheer surprise at her would-be assassin speaking her childhood language. "An? Dun matter?"

Talon slowly walked towards her. "Dem power-men. Dey dun get wha' we get. The' wondah whai I dun listen?"

Janna's eyes, once confused, were beginning to light up with realization.

Talon continued. "Dey dun kno'. Wha' its like, to live'n dem pitz, or da streets.

Janna's eyes hardened. "Ah've been tellen 'em wha' its like, wha' ei' do." She shook her head. "Dun listen."

"Been scrappin' with 'em." said Talon in disgust. "Rats 'n bats 'ei are, all of 'em." He paused for an instant. "'cept for Du Couteau."

"Ahm fightin' em, Youse fightin' em," Janna said. "All to make'em udderstand." She shook her head. "Ain't workin'." She thought for a bit. "Gotta make'em _listen_."

Talon nodded unconsciously, then narrowed his eyes. "How?"

"Dem league?" Janna responded. "Den Dey'll listem"

Talon nodded. "Dem League."

They spat on their right hands and shook. "Make dem listen?"

"Make dem listen."

"Togethah?"

"Togethah."

* * *

Sorry for the horribad accenting _

Hope you guys enjoyed it XD


	10. Thoughts and Pictures

To Waddlebuff- Thanks for reviewing and stuff! Here's a (second?) tribute to one of the awesome readers that was with me from the very beginning.

-Note- If a song is in Major, it means it utilizes certain notes that generally make a happy song. If a song is in Minor, it means it utilizes certain notes that generally make a sad song. Bit of Musical know-how you need for this chapter.

* * *

A large, expansive garden, blooming with flowers, shaded with trees. The sentient Armadillo known as Rammus liked it here. There was no one here poking him, no Heimerdinger jibber-jabbering, trying to teach him how to talk, only peace- just like his home, in the Kumungu Jungle-, and quiet.

No. Those thoughts had come automatically. It was not quiet. There was something... he just couldn't place it. Rammus roamed around, walking in ever-expanding spirals, wondering what that sound was.

It wasn't that he didn't like the sound. It was nice. Reminded him of home. He could slowly begin to make out specific notes, then heard the instrument. It sounded like a harp of some sort. Rammus moved closer to it.

Then, he came in sight of the player.

She was situated beneath a large tree, smiling as she sat in its shade. Her eyes were closed, lips upturned in a smile. Her hands delicately plucked the strings of the exquisite instrument perched on her lap. She was so bright- beautiful, serene face crowned by blue hair, tinged golden like the sun at the edges.

Rammus couldn't help but move closer to Sona, playing slowly now. Her lips had turned downwards a bit, as the song turned wistful. Rammus looked down, remembering his innocence, and the moment it had all been ripped away.

A last note lingered in the air. Rammus looked back up, seeing a tear leak its way out of Sona's left eye. He poked her. Sona's eyes shot open, looking left, right, up. They then went down, and settled upon the Armadillo sitting patiently in front of her.

Rammus, looking up, poked Sona again. Her mouth opened and closed, but no voice came out. A surprised, "Huh?" came out of his mouth. Suddenly, he heard a voice in his head. He'd had experiences like this before- all his summoners talked to him through voices in his head. But this- this was different. Where they had boomed and shouted, ordering, berating, authoritative, this voice was different. Sona's voice was... quiet. Timid. More, a question, than an order. Light, sweet, quiet, melodious- all mixed into one. All to ask one question: _"c-can you hear me?"_.

"Yeah," came the response.

_Can you say more?_ came the question.

Rammus shook his head.

_Can you... think more?_ came another question.

Rammus shook his head again. See, Rammus couldn't understand English. Due to the magic running through his veins, he understood the meaning, but only in pictures, and therefore could only think as such. He had an idea.

Rammus's eyes narrowed in concentration. He created two pictures. On the left was Ryze, writing many words. On the right was himself, a lowly armadillo. In between was a non-equals sign. (=/=)

Sona's eyes lit up in comprehension. Instantly thinking out loud again, she thought, _We aren't that different, I can't speak, you can't express your thoughts._ In Rammus' mind, this manifested as him on the left with a little thought bubble, and Sona on the right with duct tape over her mouth, with an equals sign in the middle.

Rammus did not understand. In response, he sent back a simple question mark.

_Ahh_, Sona said,_ you don't know. I am mute- I cannot speak_. In Rammus' mind, he saw first roots holding him back from a bookcase, symbolizing knowledge, and then he saw Sona with her mouth open, but with no sound coming out. He sent back a picture of recognition- Ryze smirking in understanding.

The two lay on the trunk of the tree, thinking. After a while, Sona turned over and asked, _can we be friends_? For Rammus, this looked like a picture of Annie hugging a rather sheepish Amumu, with Sona's face grafted onto Annie, and Rammus' head on top of Amumu. A quick, "ok" escaped Rammus' mouth. A large smile lit up Sona's face.

She took a deep breath, and began to play on her Etwahl.

The beginning of the song was tentative, but quickly turned sad. Melody, suddenly in the minor- always growing quieter, softer, hopelessness and melancholy apparent. Even Rammus, who saw a weeping girl, unable to speak, constantly ignored, all alone, was touched.

Then, one major chord. Then another. A halting, searching melody, of her powers of music, and her Etwahl. Her life had revolved around it, just like the song revolved around that melody. Her first concert, a massive blowout, a small crescendo showing the triumph.

Her music slowly built up, yet was missing something. Her chords were missing a tone, just as her life was missing something she desperately needed. Someone who could empathize with her, someone who'd known what she'd gone through- someone who was _like_ her. There was a quiet moment of despair. The song slipped into minor briefly once more.

Then- one note. The line that was missing. It clashed with the minor chords, forcing a major sequence. The melody arrived, in full force, complete, strong, powerful, yet filled with grace and serenity. That person had arrived- she was complete, just like her melody. It abruptly stopped, Sona looking at Rammus with a raised eyebrow.

He saw this as a crossroads in his mind- two roads, both leading far into the distance. The rather short Armadillo strained to reach up, and just reached one of the strings. His left paw plucked. The note ran strong and true- just the right note to continue the now triumphant crescendo.

The pair sat under the tree as the sun slowly set, Sona playing, the gentle, beautiful waves of music massaging both of them.

For Rammus, this manifested as him, attempting to wear armor, but missing a breastplate. But, he'd found one, with an Etwahl etched onto it. His suit of armor was complete. Just like his life.

For Sona, this manifested in her music- whole, strong, yet gentle and charming at the same time. That low line of notes completed the melody of the song, finishing the musical masterpiece- just like the Sentient Armadillo had filled the gaping hole in her life.

They both sat satisfied under the tree, Rammus occasionally reaching up to pluck a string, sharing smiles and understanding.

Despite their language, the pair had found someone to understand and love them for who they were-

In each other.


	11. The Greatest Prank

Note- sorry if this stomps on some of your perceptions on some champions =(

enjoy!

* * *

"An' this one time, I was screamin 'there's a bogey on my tail!...'" Corki was saying.

His (inwardly) disinterested audience- Tristana, the Megling Gunner, was slowly nodding her head, as she covertly glanced at the timepiece set on her wrist. _Almost time…._ She thought as Corki rambled on about the Charlie Foxtrot in his tale.

Tristana noticed a faint shadow appear over Corki. Interrupting the pilot's story, she leaned in and whispered, "Lima Oscar Lima," before turning heel and jumping away by shooting a rocket at the ground.

Corki looked up, saw the massive bomb, and roared after Tristana, "J-Just goes teh show you're nothin' but a Whiskey Delta!"

**** Two Minutes Later****

*slap*

Tristana runs up to another yordle, one covered in goggles and harnessed to a bomb, quickly high-fiving him.

"That. Was. _Awesome_!" she squealed, satisfied with another prank carried out to perfection. "Did you see the fireworks?"

"Yeah, it was great," Said Ziggs, nearly dancing in glee.

They fell in step together, walking towards the central marketplace as they discussed who to prank next.

"Big Armor dude?"

"Nah, those Demacians are serious. Wouldn't want to taste his sword, eh?"

"Lollypop?"

"Unless you want to have your face smashed in by Whopper…."

"Alright then, fine. Who else?"

"Maybe… Veigar?"

"No, it's too dangerous!"

"But, just imagine it! The beauty! The hilariousness!"

Ziggs' hand met his face. He had a bad feeling about this. But Tristana was right- if the pair could pull it off, it'd be the greatest prank in history.

"Alright" came the reluctant reply.

Tristana jumped for joy, and started tugging on Ziggs' arm. "Cmon, cmon, we gotta find him!"

****Several hours of searching later****

Guided by Tristana, Ziggs was lead to the living place of Veigar. It was several miles out of Bandle City.

It was a dark tower, lightning flashing, every yordle within 3 mile's radius already moved away. Occasionally, one could hear maniatical cackling coming from the inside. Once, Ziggs swore, he could even hear bloodcurdling screams coming from the inside. He began to rethink this preposition of pranking perhaps the greatest master of dark magic in Valoran.

Ziggs began to debate within his head. Stay? Leave? Stay? Leave?

Too late for him, for Tristana had already walked up to the front of the tower, preparing to knock the door. Ziggs ran up, whispering furiously, "Wait, we don't even have a plan yet!"

Tristana slowly turned around, a mysterious smile on her face, and an evil glint in her eye. "Oh, I've got a plan alright.

Ziggs' eyes widened, but Tristana's grinning face was the last thing he saw before the blackness descended.

His head hurt. It hurt a lot. He wondered what had happened to it. Did he fall? DId he have a hangover? He could really use some of that pudding Tristana ma-

Wait.

Tristana.

The memories of what happened before Veigar's door rushed through Ziggs' head, as he began to furiously look around him. He was in a dungeon, probably in Veigar's tower. Chained to the wall, he could see shackles, old bloodstains, and only one solid oak door.

An oak door that was beginning to creep open.

First came in Tristana, face set in a deep scowl. Then came the Tiny Master of Evil, waving his staff, and chattering in a rather high-pitched voice.

Veigar stepped closer, and yet the only thing Ziggs could make out other than the massively oversized hat were the eerily glowing yellow eyes.

He stepped back, motioning to Tristana and saying, "He is useless to me. Dispose of him."

Tristana blankly stared at Ziggs, saying ,"Yes master." She unsheathed her Megling Commando issue Military Knife, and slowly took steps towards Ziggs. Ziggs desperately struggled as she took another step. Then another. When she was right in front of him, she began to wind back her arm.

Ziggs closed his eyes in preperation of the pain.

He heard first, the _ting_ of the knife as it fell on the ground.

He then heard the peals of laughter as Tristana literally rolled around on the floor, laughing her heart out.

At this, the only thing Ziggs could muster was, "Eh?"

Still tittering, Tristana began to get up and retrieved her knife, cutting Ziggs' bonds, while choking out in between peals of laughter, "You should *hic* have seen the look *teehee* on your face!"

Ziggs still glared warily at Veigar. The robed yordle first took off his massive hat, then the mask, then his robes. Underneath was a perfectly ordinary Yordle who simply smiled like Tristana.

Tristana, seeing Ziggs' mistrust of Veigar, said with glee, "He loves to prank more than me!" Seeing Ziggs' disbelief, she continued. "He tricked people into thinking he was evil!" She now grinned mischievously. "And We sure tricked you!"

Ziggs began to relax. "So... you're not evil?"

"Ah, no." Veigar said in a perfectly normal Yordle voice. "But everyone thinks I am." He grinned. "And it lets Trist and I get some great pranks in."

Ziggs was now relaxed. "Say... That's some pretty good prankin' you two got there." Tristana and Veigar gave each other a high-five. "Mind if... I join in?"

"Sure!" Tristana squealed as she rushed forwards to hug her new partner-in-pranking.

"So..." Ziggs began as the three began to ascend the stairs of the tower. "How does this work out?"

"Think a prank," said Veigar. "Now think of someone evil to throw into the prank."

Ziggs began rubbing his hands in glee. Having someone evil immediately opened up so many options!

"So?" Tristana asked. "Who's next?"

"What about Teemo?" asked Ziggs.

The three yordles continued discussing their next prank as they climbed up the stairs, and into the open.


	12. The Path to Freedom

Again, sorry for the brief hiatus. I hope you guys enjoy this one.

-NOTE- I believe this is my 10th story! WHOOO! okay celebration's over, start reading =P

* * *

"Ah yes. The Ruby is for vigor," Taric said.

Ryze was in his examination room, trying to decipher the different magics the league's champions used. Taric's gems were each infused with a particular spell, aiding him in battle. The ruby in particular was infused with a speed spell.

"Absolutely fascinating..." Ryze muttered as he studied several of Taric's gems more intently.

"Gems contain unbridled power," Taric agreed, nodding.

Ryze stood up, handing Taric the gemstone back. "Thank you very much for this opportunity Taric."

Taric bowed as he moved to the exit. "Anytime Ryze."

Ryze scribbled down some notes, before offhandidly calling, "Next!"

The door creaked open, as Ryze's eyes narrowed at the being that had just floated into the room.

Xerath, the Magus Ascendant.

The Archon, encased inside a shattered Sarcophagus, said in his wispy voice, "I was told to present myself to the mage Ryze."

Ryze bristled. He'd asked the League to send him Champions with unusual powers, but Xerath was an abomination! He'd destroyed his city with reckless magics, and was trying to get out of his rightful punishment through the League. He didn't even deserve the recognition of Ryze giving him an examination!

"Out!" Ryze yelled.

Xerath did not move.

"_Out!_", roared Ryze.

Xerath slowly turned around, and floated out of Ryze's examination room. Xerath was extremely annoyed. He had hoped that the summoners of the League could undo the chains wrought upon him by the mages of Shurima, but so far, they'd only had him fight and ordered him to places that summarily rejected him- first the library, then a city-state's academy, and now the examination room of this mage.

At least they'd given him a source of magic in his room in the Northern Wing. He headed that way to replenish his stocks of arcane energy, sorely depleted after a heated battle in the Crystal Scar.

On his way to his room, Xerath sensed a being of intense magical power. The closest human description would be smell, for Xerath caught a whiff of hardened, concentrated _power_.

Intrigued, Xerath slowly floated towards the 'smell', always interested in new sources of power.

When he came across the source of the spell, he was expecting a majestic being of extreme power- perhaps another archon like himself.

He was not expecting a dark female with tattered wings and a ruined body, desperately trying to even wiggle her right wing.

Xerath sniffed again. The smell was definitely coming from her.

His curiosity overriding his judgement, Xerath's voice rasped out, "who are you?"

The Fallen One, previously facing away from the archon, slowly turned around, eyes wide. "Who's there?" She seemed startled when she noticed the archon behind her, and winced in pain when her left wing brushed the wall.

"I am the Magus Ascendant," rasped Xerath. "I sensed magic, and I came." He paused for a moment. "Why are you in pain?"

"My damn sister," Morgana growled. "I didn't follow all of her rules, and she did this." Morgana gestured to her tattered wings, as she turned her head to the side. "Let's talk about something else..." Morgana looked back at Xerath. "Why are you here?"

"In the League?" Xerath asked. Morgana just raised an eyebrow, then nodded slightly. "Are you sure?" Xerath pressed. "It's a long tale." Morgana gave a short bark of laughter. "Oh, I've got time." She mused to herself. "Almost too much time..."

And so Xerath's tale began.

"Back before the last Rune War, there was a great City-State called Shurima. The mages there always used magic for battle, and warfare. They controlled it tightly, wielded it as a sword, to conquer Shurima's enemies. I was different.

I wanted power- not to conquer, but for knowledge. Power could teach me- the world- about the universe, and the inner workings of time itself. And so I taught myself, granting myself ever-greater power. But my mortal form could not hold so much energy in myself, so I started a ritual to transcend my mortal body, and grant me one of pure arcane energy. The Backlash from the spell destroyed the entire Mage's district and half of the Market district in Shurima.

I had gained power, but the mages there did not know for what reason. They assumed I'd come to destroy, rather than learn. They sealed me away in this prison. Many long years later, I finally destroyed it, but the core remains, forever shackling me. I have been fighting in hopes of achieving freedom from these chains ever since."

Xerath's story finished, Morgana lowered her eyes in contemplation. His story was just like hers. She found herself speaking.

"My sister Kayle was the leader of a faction, that promoted 'Central Government' and 'Law'. I saw it for what it really was- dictatorship and tyranny. I refused to obey, and for that, I was branded 'fallen'."

A small tear slipped out of Morgana's left eye. "I just wanted peace, and the ability to be different, independent, creative- my own person." Morgana looked down at herself- her metaphorically stained hands, her torn wings. "I fought for my future, and this is my punishment..."

"You know..." Xerath began. Morgana looked at him. "We aren't so different."

Morgana's eyebrow rose.

"We both crave freedom from our own separate burdens." Morgana slowly nodded as she understood what the Archon was saying. However, what he said next caught her by surprise.

"You are a powerful mage, correct?" Morgana nodded. "Could you perhaps, aid me with my chains?"

Xerath's arcane form twisted the metal on the sarcophagus to resemble a smile. "And of course, I shall help free you from your own chains as well.

Morgana dared to hope for a moment. Xerath was amazingly poweful. She quickly nodded. "Anything."

With the Magus Ascendant standing beside her, perhaps even freed by her magic, perhaps one day she could finally get out of this living nightmare, and finally be herself again, not having to raise another finger against her own kin one more time.

Xerath's spirit felt lightened when he heard Morgana's answer to his request. Perhaps, one day he could be released from his chains, to finally wield his power once more, and gain more knowledge to share with the world- and make it a better place.

Perhaps one day, they could both be free.


	13. Faces in the Night, Part 2

Alright, sorry for the delayed update =( This is, as you might see, part 2 of the Akali Caitlyn pairing (as requested by... several people...). If you haven't read the first one, I recommend reading the first part- Faces in the Night.

But the reasons as to why this update is so late- I wrote (and discarded) 3 seperate stories, and I was working on the Collab. project.

-Note- during the next update, this will be moved to a new spot after the first chapter of Akali and Caitlyn.

^- that is actually under deliberation. Might move it, might not.-^

-Note #2- anyone who gets the Mass Effect joke gets an internet cookie =D

But I should really stop rambling- go read!

* * *

_Blam!_

Caitlyn took a deep breath as the champion beside her, Janna, fell to a tossed shruikan. Turning around, she shot once. The ninja known as Shen deflected the bullet, before beginning to run towards her.

Caitlyn reloaded quickly, snapping a special armor-piercing bullet into place. Her next shot snapped right through Shen's shield, as well as several trees, before stopping its flight in an old oak stronger than most. Shen gave a loud death-cry, toppling over to lie on the ground next to his Nexus.

_Why am I here anyways?_, Caitlyn thought to herself. _And why am I fighting-_

Speaking of the devil, Ezreal behind her gurgled in pain as Akali suddenly appeared behind him, flourishing her Kamas before disappearing into the veil of smoke that forever obscured her from view. He found himself looking down as a kama sprouted out of his chest, before being violently ripped out in a massive spray of blood. He fell backwards, a pool of blood spreading beneath him within seconds.

Caitlyn ducked as another shruikan flew towards her, taking off her beloved hat. Narrowing her eyes at the nimble Yordle that just wouldn't stop throwing them at her, Caitlyn snapped two bullets into the slot of her rifle.

Her first shot ripped the next shruikan already flying towards her into tiny pieces.

Her second found its home in Kennan's brain, the Yordle flipping backwards with the force of the shot.

Caitlyn looked to the right. Akali was there, whipping her Kamas to clean them of Ezreal's blood. _No_, Caitlyn thought: _I can't do this_.

* * *

Piltover had won over 40 of its last 50 games. It had gained exclusive trading rights with Freljord as a result, as well as destroyed Zaun's champions to stop their strong development near the Piltoverian border. It had also claimed three 20 ton mineral deposits on the Demacian border. The result was a much more powerful Piltover, rapidly zoning out Zaun and other city states in prestige, power, wealth, and technology.

The Kinkou order was dedicated to balance. It saw the extraordinary rise of Piltover as unnatural, disrupting the natural balance of power between the city-states. In order to restore balance to the city-states of Valoran, the Triumvirate had decided to challange Piltover to a match, which would determine the fate of the decisions of the past 50 matches.

Caitlyn had been chosen to represent her city-state on the Twisted Treeline, forever dreading the inevitable fact- she would have to fight Akali sometime on the Fields of Justice. And it appeared that now, that time had come...

* * *

Akali froze as she saw the last person standing on the enemy team. _Caitlyn..._ Her summoner, one of the Kinkou, ordered her forwards to kill the Sheriff. Akali hesitated.

Her summoner ordered her forwards again, a little stronger this time. _I... I can't. Not to Caitlyn_, came Akali's response.

Her summoner responded by taking direct control of her body. Fighting the control with all her will, Akali still couldn't stop her body from moving forwards. She just hoped that the slow, jerky steps would give Caitlyn a chance, and the right message.

* * *

Caitlyn froze as she saw Akali hesitate for a moment, then start walking towards her slowly. She clutched her rifle tightly, yet didn't shoot.

Step.

_Shoot Akali!_ her summoner screetched in her mind.

Step.

_I can't,_ came Caitlyn's response.

Step.

_Dammit, this match is too important. Assuming direct control_. Her summoner said.

Step.

Caitlyn fought, and she maintained control of her body. Her summoner was not as experienced as Akali's and as a result, couldn't take control from the Sheriff.

Step.

Akali was right in front of her, beginning to raise her Kama. Caitlyn saw the look of despair on her face, and knew that she was doing this against her will. Her resolve hardened, yet her very body, and half of her mind was fighting her, Caitlyn slowly spread her arms and closed her eyes. It took every bit of concentration to maintain control of her body, any distraction would-

_Schink!_

Caitlyn's eyes opened in pain as she looked down. Akali's face was now desperate as she stared at Caitlyn's shoulder in horror, her Kama embedded in it. Akali's summoner forced her next attack- to pull the Kama out violently. A fountain of blood spurted out of Caitlyn's left shoulder.

The pain was enough to break Caitlyn's concentration for an instant, and suddenly, she found her right arm raising against her own will. The finger pulled.

Akali now looked in shock at her chest. Blood started to seep through the massive bullet hole, perfectly aimed at her heart. Her summoner, now knowing that the situation was helpless, relinquished control, and Akali, barely able to control her fall, fell on her knees in front of the Sheriff. Her lips moved slightly, but Caitlyn was barely able to make out one word, whispered out.

"Sorry..."

With that, Akali's head slumped forwards, and her body slumped forwards into Caitlyn's arm.

Caitlyn was desperately screaming, "Akali! I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to- please talk! Say something!" She shook the body of the woman in front of her. "I.. I didn't mean to!"

But Akali was already gone.

Her will crushed, Caitlyn hollowly stood up. With nothing fighting him now, the summoner simply forced Caitlyn's hand up, and shot one perfectly aimed bullet. It pierced the power crystal powering the enemy nexus, causing it to explode in a massive spray of purple crystals and aged stone. Caitlyn was immediately transported back to the place where she was before the match- her room.

It was dark, as the match had been one of the latest of the day. It was now night- a new moon. There was no light in the room, nor did Caitlyn bother to turn one on, as she fell to her knees, sobbing in grief.

Suddenly, Akali appeared, still with a bloodly wound on top of her heart. She started walking forwards, but this time her face was angry, full of deadly determination. "You killed me," she said, eyes flashing with steely rage

"I-I'm sorry! I didn't mean-" Caitlyn stammered out, before Akali interrupted.

"You lost control. You killed me. And you will pay, _Murdress_," Akali ground out, eyes filled with anger.

"Murdress" echoed all of the others that had suddenly appeared in front of her. Caitlyn looked forwards in despair. There was Jeremiah Cid, who demanded retribution for his father's death. That was Harvey Kent, murdered by the mysterious C Caitlyn had yet to catch. There was the face of Gabriel Hanson, who'd pulled a cutlass on her while in a drunken stupor- the bullet wound still in his forehead. They, as well as countless others, paraded before the terrified Sheriff, each one muttering towards her, torturing her, accusing her. And bringing up the rear, Akali stooped down again, Caitlyn shirking away from her touch, curling up in a small ball amid the chorus that rose up around her- _"You killed my father!" "You couldn't catch him..." "I was drunk, dammit!" "Why... why me?" "You weren't strong enough..."_ Wallowing in her own despair, only hearing the voices in her head, Caitlyn never heard the quiet click coming from the front of her room.

Akali came forwards, Kamas now in her hands. Shirking away from the ninja with a quiet squeak, Caitlyn tucked her head in between her knees. She was surprised to feel a touch on the side of her head, gently guiding her to look up, into Akali's sorrowful brown eyes.

"I'm sorry!" Caitlyn sobbed. "I didn't mean to-" Caitlyn's outburst was silenced by a silent finger on her lips.

Akali looked down, then spoke in disgust. "I know." The ninja shook her head. "You fought, while I didn't. I wasn't strong enough to fight my summoner." It was clear that Akali's disgust was aimed at herself.

Caitlyn looked around. The other ghosts in her room had faded back into the walls with the real Akali's presence. Caitlyn rushed forwards and embraced Akali, tears wetting both of their necks as they trickled down from red eyes.

"I'm sorry" Caitlyn whispered into Akali's right ear. "Forgive me?"

"Already done," Akali whsipered back. She could feel Caitlyn's smile on her cheek. "I didn't hurt you did I?"

"No," Caitlyn responded, rolling her left shoulder. "It's all good." She could feel Akali's smile on her cheek as well. "That's good," came the reply.

The two women slowly let go of each other. Akali turned away towards the door, beginning to take a few steps away. But suddenly there were two Akalis- one stepping towards the door, and the other beginning to meld from the wall. "Stop!" snapped the panicked Caitlyn. Akali turned around in surprise, walking towards the Sheriff. Every step the real Akali took, the ghost Akali melded more into the wall, before Akali reached Caitlyn, and the ghost disappeared.

"They're still here, aren't they..." Akali murmured, seeing Caitlyn calm the moment Akali reached her. Caitlyn simply nodded in response, tentatively reaching out a hand to touch Akali's face, making sure it was real.

Akali grasped Caitlyn's hand tightly, knowing her need for contact. "Don't worry, I'm here.," Akali whispered. The ninja remembered her motif- _Do that which must be done_, suddenly knew exactly what she needed to do.

Taking Caitlyn by surprise, Akali suddenly pulled her down onto the bed.

She would spend the night there, making sure Caitlyn knew she was there, now-

and Forever.


	14. Anyone can learn

Sorry for this extremely late (and slightly lame) update. But, I have an excuse!

Escape from the League- a new LoL fic written by yours truly. Go read it! =D

And without further ado, here's the next story.

* * *

It was quiet.

Too quiet.

Brand, the Burning Vengance sat in his cell. It was night out, which meant he would not be summoned for battle. That also meant he had nothing to do to pass the time.

The door to his cell creaked. Brand looked at it for a moment, before looking down again. No one would be dumb enough-

The door swung open. Brand surged up, hurling a fireball, only to have it splash harmlessly on some kind of shield around Nasus, the Curator.

"Nasus," Brand said. "What are you doing here?"

Nasus simply shut the door, and walked inside.

"Answer me!" Brand yelled, as all the pent up frustration within him began to explode now that he had a target, and Nasus became bathed in flame.

"Do you not think me stupid enough to not come in here with a magical shield?" asked Nasus in his super smooth and silky voice. Brand reluctantly stopped the torrent of flame.

"As for why I am here…" Nasus trailed off, deep in thought, eyes unseeing. Brand tapped his foot impatiently.

The Curator looked directly at Brand again, looking straight at him with a piercing gaze. "I know the different accounts of the Burning Vengance…" Brand snorted at this. "But I am a librarian at heart. I wish to know more. I wish to know your side as well."

Brand began to laugh. "I am incomprehendable to the likes of you. I do have purpose deeper than destruction, you will just never see it!"

Nasus' voice was quiet. "Try me" he said narrowed eyes. Brand shook his head.

Nasus' voice suddenly got deeper, louder, as he grew in size and showed his true form- a silvery-blue blend between a jackal and a man. "I am a god, immortal, and eons older than you. You would do well to listen to my requests."

Brand's eyebrow shot up, as he looked down (remarkably like a sulking child), and muttered beneath his breath, "fine."

Now it was Brand's turn to look up, past the raging god, and reminisce upon old times.

"There was once an organization in the past. It was known by outsiders only as "Dragon". It taught balance in all things. Balance… in life as well as in Death.

They saw so much life around them, so much going in, none coming out. They predicted that it would destroy the balance, with catastrophic results. They needed to even out the balance between life and death somehow.

I was their tool to do so."

Brand looked down. "I destroyed the entire world- including the last remnants of those who created me. It was only by the intervention of all the remaining mages in the place you now call Lockfar that I was sealed… until my freedom."

"So that is your purpose…" Nasus murmured to himself. The Curator looked up again. "Well I have two things to tell you.

The first is that the organization that created you is still alive. It has actually spread to be the central religion of one of the city-states, Ionia. In fact, in its purest form, Dragon has evolved into the ninja organization known as the Kinkou."

Brand gasped. He'd noticed the similarities between the Kinkou and his creators, but he'd never imagined that the organization had actually survived.

"Second, that your purpose is flawed."

Brand bristled at that. "You don't get it," said the Burning Vengance. "I am the power that cleanses old growth, and clears it out for the new. I renew the world. That is my purpose, and I do it by fire."

Nasus snorted. "And what is old, for you?" Brand began to interrupt, but Nasus just continued. "What about young men, just about to enter their prime? Children, who will grow, whose time have not even begun yet! Is that what you wish to cleanse?"

Brand looked down. Nasus continued. "That is your purpose- to destroy _everything_- be it old, or new. It is flawed."

The Curator looked out the cell window- it was already dusk. "I have limited time, so I must leave now. But rest assured that you have taught me much- about your history, about your views, and about the cycle of Life and Death itself. For that I thank you, and I hope you can teach me more in the future."

As Nasus turned around to leave, Brand muttered softly, but was loud enough for Nasus to hear: "Yeah that'd be nice."

As the Curator exited, he just caught Brand saying to himself, "heh, maybe he's right."


	15. An Unlikely Alliance

Darkness was everywhere.

Even though it masked itself sometimes as light and innocence, the evil powers of the world were just waiting to pounce upon the hapless inhabitants of Valoran, and all the Realms beyond it.

This was a lesson Vayne knew all too well.

Stalking the darkened hallways of the Instutute during the night, Vayne quietly patrolled the building. One could never be too careful, especially considering the attempted escape of Nocture only a few week earlier.

Left only with her own thoughts, Vayne kept walking. She was now in the Northern Wing, slowly pacing past the dark doorways. There was the plaque showing Ashe's and Tryndamere's combined bedrooms, that doorway was where Nautilus rested, and the slightly frosted doorway over there lead to Anivia's perch on the roof of the Institute.

The next door was slightly open, a sliver of light spilling out into the hallway. The contrast between the light and the plaque made it impossible to read, and Vayne couldn't help but be drawn to the light like a moth is drawn to a lantern.

Bringing her right eye to the crack, Vayne slowly made out details in the room, while attempting to move her cramped legs and arms, painfully trapped in the confines of the cupboard.

Wait, what? The cupboard?

Panicking, Vayne brought up her right hand. No crossbow. She reached behind her and felt unbound hair- desperately grasping but not finding her trustworthy condemning crossbow. It wasn't possible- she wasn't-

She peered through the slit again, this time only able to put her eye up to it by painfully cricking her neck forwards.

Vayne was greeted by a nightmarish scene from the past.

The two guards that stood outside the doorway lay limp, like ragdolls on the ground. Her little brother, who she'd given a cookie to just that morning, lay torn in half in a wall, dark hair covering what was left of his torn face, twisted in agony. Her father still had a surprised expression on his face, as he stared blankly at the ceiling, lying in a pool of his own blood. And her mother...

She was currently screaming in ungodly agony, her 'friend' who she'd invited over for a cup of tea revealing herself to be that sick crone by tearing apart her family, and now torturing her relentlessly.

Vayne simply looked on in horror as her mother screamed, thrashed, as the witch slowly inflicted more and more horrifying curses on her mother. There were hundreds of small cuts, all slowly oozing blood, all causing untold agony. Her mother's body was grotesquely stretched in inhuman ways. Even more horrible spells were laid upon her every moment.

Then she took one last, shuddering breath, and lay still. Her mother, who Vayne had loved the most out of her entire family, who'd taught her everything she'd known and had loved her the most. She was gone.

The witch, still with an evil grin on her face, slowly started walking to the cupboard. Vayne let out a small whimper, as the witch slowly made her way over and reached out her hand-

_Gasp_.

Vayne flipped backwards, instinctively bringing her crossbow up in line with Morgana's startled face. The Fallen Angel simply raised an eyebrow as the Night Hunter kept her crossbow aimed, albeit shaking like a leaf.

"State your buisness, Night Hunter." Morgana said suspiciously.

Vayne furiously searched for an answer. There was no doubt Morgana suspected something, but if she told the truth, her reputation, so painstakingly built up, would be annihilated. She decided to try to buy herself some more time. "I want to know what is true evil."

Morgana gave out a short bark of derisive laughter. "Another one," she crowed. "Another one who wants to purge me, because I am 'evil'". Morgana's eyes narrowed as she stared back at Vayne. "And what, would you say, is 'true evil'?"

Beginning to warm to the discussion, Vayne replied in stride, "Causing unjustified pain to others."

Morgana snorted. "And when have my actions been unjustified?"

Vayne looked to the side. "It wasn't you."

"Oh?" came the response. "Then why did you stop at _my_ door?"

"It was... a memory- an event that made me who I am today." The Night Hunter reluctantly revealed. "Your doorway reminded me-"

But Morgana had already been lost in the words "An even that made me who I am today." She remembered what hers had been.

Escaping an execution, where the sentence and beheading were carried out by her sister herself.

"Tell me Vayne," Morgana asked tentatively. "Can what's truly evil look like it's good?"

Vayne thought back to that fateful day, and remembered the disguise of the evil witch. "Yes, of course. After all, Evil lurks around every corner."

"And earlier you said that evil was forcing others to do things they don't want to do?" Morgana pressed on. Seeing Vayne's nod, Morgana kept talking. "So, wouldn't my sister Kayle be evil as well?"

"But of course," Vayne said. "She forces law and oppressive rule on all others. She is a perfect embodiment of evil."

"And what am I?" Morgana asked.

"You... you haven't hurt anyone innocent, have you?" Vayne asked. Morgana shook her head. "I only fought for peace and independence, but sought dark magics for freedom."

"You're fine then." Vayne said.

Morgana thought for a second, before offering, "You hunt evil beings, though, right?" Vayne nodded. "And Kayle is Evil, correct?" Vayne nodded again, beginning to understand where this was going. "Will you help me destroy Kayle?"

Vayne thought for a moment, before saying, "Deal."

Human and Angel extended hands, shaking, before Morgana leaned in, saying "so here's what we'll do..."

* * *

Hey guys! I'm still alive!

Sorry for the long wait times between stories, exams and stuff are really tearing me apart.

Also, I try to avoid giving the same champ multiple stories, but when the generator gave me Morg 4 times in a row, I just gave up lol

If this gets enough love, I may make a part two, featuring... well you guess =P

-Dorryza


	16. The Last Frontier

Hey guys *waves sheepishly*. So, I'm alive, and still writing. Might've been slightly busy though- real life tends to get in your face and give you a sucker punch at the worst times.

Anyways, I'll try to update more in the future, but in the meantime, you guys can enjoy this =)

* * *

**The Last Frontier**

"Know your environment"

Ezreal repeated his main maxim to himself as he looked left and right anxiously. The Blond explorer had ruffled hair, wearing an inscribed jacket with a large hood and with a noticeable amulet wrapped around his left hand. He also had a large pack, including multiple tents, blades, flares, and instantaneous teleportation devices courtesy of the League- looking quite different than his usual gear on the Fields of Justice. The explorer _was_ in Icathia, known to be one of the most dangerous locations on Valoran, hence the fact that the amulet was constantly up and tracking for any movement. There was a crumbling statue of an unrecognizable beast to his left, and the remnants of a building to his right. _Plenty of places for something not friendly to hide, _Ezreal thought as he shivered silently and continued walking.

It appeared that the street Ezreal had been walking on was a smaller one- despite the fact that it was tens of feet wide- because it intersected with another one, which was a 50 feet wide promenade. The blond explorer couldn't help but follow it with his eyes to its end, where a massive Ziggurat still stood. Despite it being several centuries old, it still stood ominously, dominating the entire street, and indeed, the entire city. Ezreal shivered again, but slowly pressed on towards his goal.

_Know your environment,_ Ezreal repeated to himself as he quickly swept his eyes around the area before slowly and carefully picking his way through the rubble-strewn street towards the Ziggurat, everything crumbling due to the fractured buildings lining up beside the street. He was constantly stepping past shadows, as the sun tried to break through the cracked and broken buildings. He stepped out of the light and into the dark again, when-

Suddenly, Ezreal heard a deep breath behind him. Before he could even turn around, a magical force exploded behind him, propelling him forwards and into a small pit created by the lack of rubble. Quickly twisting his head, Ezreal could only make out a dark shadow standing above him, the entire area around it cracking with Eldritch energies, and with a visible purple shape next to it. It slowly began to walk- no, float- towards the Explorer.

Ezreal tried to summon his magic, and teleport backwards, even maybe away from this city. But just as his will was about to activate his amulet, the figure shifted its arm while still floating towards him, and blasted him with energy. Ezreal managed to raise his arm in time to block the brunt of the blast, but when he tried to use the amulet, it simply activate. The explorer tried again and again to activate it, pouring mana into it, but the mana simply seemed to disappear into nothingness.

Seeing that the figure was still relentlessly floating towards him, Ezreal quickly twisted his torso and pulled out a blade from a compartment in his backpack, holding it up in defense against his mysterious foe. It kept going- until it seemed to duck and disappear.

Ezreal nearly put down his blade, but he repeated it again. _Know your environment_. And listening for a split second- he heard heavy breathing- not in front of him, but _behind_ him.

Quickly turning around, the now-desperate exploerer used his turning motion to give additional momentum for his swing. It looked like the blade was going to home in true against his shadowy assailent- until the purple mass came up, revealing itself as a blade, and literally sliced Ezreal's blade in two.

With the sight of that blade, Ezreal now knew who was before him. With the silencing, the teleportation, and that void blade, it could only be the Void Walker. Thinking quickly, he tried using his amulet again, but he still could not- it appeared the Void Walker's abilities were amplified outside of the Fields of Justice. Perhaps, however, he could appeal to him as a fellow League champion.

"Kassadin, wait", called out Ezreal.

Kassadin paused for a moment, blade still in midair, before booming, "Who dares address me?"

"Heh." Ezreal raised his left arm. "Amulet." He gestured all around him and to himself. "Exploring." He grinned confidently. "I'm Ezreal."

Kassadin now put down his blade. "And what, explorer, are you doing here?"

Ezreal, seeing the blade withdrawn, now looked down at his feet. "I-" He looked up again at Kassadin, still standing there impassively. "I was curious about the existence of Icathia I guess." Ezreal forced out.

"Not only Icathia, I would think," boomed Kassadin.

Ezreal's eyebrow twitched for a second, before sighing. "I wanted to explore the void. What kinds of things are there, the dangers, the excitement!" Ezreal's eyes gleamed as he thought about what he would be hailed as, the explorer mapping out the void, seeing its creatures, feeling its sun.

"Which I cannot allow you to do, untrained one." Kassadin's hand shot forwards, barring the explorer's way forwards. His own head- with the mask over it- dropped a bit. "I cannot afford another Malzahar." Nearly whispering himself, he said, "I cannot afford another me."

"Wha-" Ezreal began, before Kassadin cut him off. "Do not argue! Unless you want to end up like this." The Void Walker gestured to himself, with multiple breathing apparatuses and cybernetic implants just to continue breathing.

"I was like you once," said Kassadin, now looking up at the weak Icathian sky. "Curious; wanting recognition and glory. I came to this forsaken place, searching for the Void myself." Ezreal began to speak, but Kassadin continued. "And I found it. Or more accurately, it found me."

"You cannot enter. You will be consumed, and aid the voidborn. I cannot allow that."

Ezreal's heart plummeted. His hopes of exploring everywhere he could, were totally dashed. It was why he'd mapped out the dungeons of Noxus, avoiding guards and soldiers (and Katarina going on a killing spree, but that was a different story) at every turn. It was why he'd ventured to the center of the Kumungu jungle, to try and make sense of the jumbled mass of incorrect maps, each promising treasure, but all granting nothing but death in a swamp somewhere. It was why he'd gone to the top of the Ironspike Mountains, seeking the trail to the nest where Anivia roosted, if only to see the sight of the majestic icy bird taking flight over the jagged edges of the mountains poking into the aurora borealis of the north.

It was why he was here. He couldn't stay away. Adventuring and Exploring was in his blood, and he _had_ to come here while he was still young, and had the greatest chance of surviving.

While Ezreal was pondering his plight, Kassadin had turned away and slowly moved towards one of the crumbling buildings. But suddenly, Ezreal thought of something.

"Wait!" he called. Kassadin slowly turned to face him again. "I can't enter because it'll corrupt me, right?" Kassadin nodded. "Can you… train me to not be corrupted?"

"Ezreal… are you sure you want to do this? Venturing into the void will change you forever, regardless of what I teach. Horrifying things await there, millions of beings even more twisted than the likes of Kog'Maw and Cho'Gath. If I am to teach you, it would take years, perhaps even decades, before you could possibly step foot in the portal and not go mad. Are you willing to do that?"

"Yes," Ezreal said determinedly. "I'll do whatever it takes." He smiled sheepishly. "Because if you don't take me, I'll end up going myself. I _have_ to."

"Very well. Then let us begin our first lesson."

Ezreal's eye twited. "That fast, eh?" he muttered to himself. Quickly grabbing a blanket to sit on, and a kerosene lantern to fight the rapidly encroaching night, he sat and listened as Kassadin began.

"The first lesson is time. Time does not flow…"

The two sat there, shrouded in the darkness as the sun finally set, amongst the jagged edges of the crumbling, deserted city, exchanging words and ideas. But, Ezreal flicked on the kerosene lamp, and illuminated the area around them. Light poured out of the lamp, fighting furiously to hold back the darkness around the duo.

They would sit there talking and listening for a long time.


	17. Mending

Here's the next one. I decided that it was finally time to put in a bit of the most popular fanfic champ. Tell me how it worked out please =)

* * *

The sun beat down. It was relentless.

Just like the attack of the damn Ionians.

Riven shook her head for a moment, flicking some gathered sweat off her brow. She looked up again. A hopeless situation looked back.

Left and right, Noxian soldiers in the Fury company were falling. Ionians poured out from the forest in front of them, the never-ending stream beating back the remaining Noxians.

"Captain, what do we do?" a furiously shaking private asked. New from the conscription camps, Riven couldn't even recall his name. "Ma'am, what do we d-" his eyes went wide as an arrow pierced his throat. He could only gurgle as he slowly fell onto the ground. Riven looked up again, rapidly slicing upwards, quickly bisecting a charging Ionian.

But it didn't matter. The enraged Ionians had now circled around them, outnumbering the remaining Noxians more than a hundred-fold. The only Noxians left were pressed into a small circle, a few moaning wounded protected by the backs of the soldiers left standing.

The two sides stood at a temporary standstill for a moment, staring at each other.

But Riven stepped forwards, out of the ring. It was a small chance, but if her soldiers could prove themselves strong enough, they might make it out of this fight.

She looked behind her. The remaining soldiers, grizzled veterans and new conscripts alike, nodded back at her, readied their equipment, and narrowed their eyes.

And at that moment, Riven knew. Noxus was stronger. Noxus _would_ prevail.

She concentrated on the Ionian leader before her- a young woman, eyes infused with magic. She saw nothing but that woman and the obstacles between them. She tasted nothing but her sweat, her body stressing itself to prove itself. She heard nothing but her own labored breathing and the rush of blood.

She took a step. Then another. Then another as she broke out into a run, sword held behind her, prepared to spin around and allow rotation of her body to aid in her strike.

But something was off. She was alone.

Where was everyone else? All the other soldiers- Marcus, John, Peter, Mortius- where'd they all go?

She turned around- just in time to see a green ball splatter half of her remaining men, as well as a large amount of surrounding Ionians.

Two seconds later, there were no more men anymore. There were only rapidly disintegrating armor, weapons, and skeletons.

But- what- what were they? What had the power to just make men disappear, to just melt-

The Melters.

Riven turned left in horror. John and another Ionian were engaged in a furious duel- John was winning, on the offensive when they were suddenly lathered in caustic green.

She turned right- Matthias had just plunged his spear into the heart of a flailing Ionian before turning and slashing at another one, eager to avenge his comrades. But it didn't matter, because a new mixture, now red, burned through them, leaving nothing but a burnt odor.

This wasn't a contest of strength. Noxians everywhere were proving themselves, yet it didn't matter. The acid that fell from the sky didn't care who was stronger- just who happened to be in its way.

How was this right? Why did being strong even matter anymore, when people just melted regardless of strength or skill?

And why was she still fighting? Noxus, with this barrage, had showed they didn't care who might or might not live, just indiscriminately slaughtering everyone in the area. Why was she still here?

It appeared others had also reached that conclusion, as Ionians and Noxians alike began sprinting for the safety of the forest. But the Melter fire just followed them, men screaming in horrible agony as their flesh and bones disintegrated within moments.

Suddenly, due to a hidden sixth sense, Riven pirouetted and slashed. The cannonfire directed at her splashed over her left arm and torso rather than hitting her on the face. Caustic acids quickly began eating throught the Noxian black plate she wore.

It was then that Riven made a choice. She would not allow these traitors to the Noxian way to destroy the true path. She _would_ prove herself stronger than them. Forcing all her inner will through her sword, light burst out from her in a nova of green, exorcising the poison from her form, and granting her renewed will and strength.

She would not give up. She would be stronger.

And she would turn Noxus back into the great ideal that it once was.

* * *

Riven watched with saddened, yet determined amber eyes as the sun rose over the scene of the battlefield. It had happened so many years ago, yet the memory was so clear.

She sighed. It always hurt, coming back to the site of her greatest nightmare, and moment of greatest conviction. But she needed to remind herself what she needed to do, and why she needed to do it.

She gazed out over the patches of brown interspersed with the meadows of bright green grass and colorful wildflowers. Those Melter patches never did go away.

Her eyes narrowing in a squint, Riven noticed a person standing a bit further away. Who else would come here?

Slowly making her way over to the other person, Riven debated what she should say, as to not startle the stranger.

That question was answered for her, when the figure suddenly turned around and said with great venom, "What do you want, Noxian scum?"

Riven jumped for a moment as she realized just who was standing before her. "Soraka. What brings you here?"

Soraka's eyes narrowed into a glare. "I could say the same for you… _Noxian._"

Riven glanced away for a moment. "Some…memories," She managed to force out.

"Memories? What mem- oh" Soraka interrupted herself. "And just what happened here for you?"

"Just the scene of the worst betrayal I'd ever encountered," said Riven bitterly. "Apparently, the entire thing I'd fought for my entire life was a lie, to be thrown away at a moment's notice."

Soraka let out a bitter laugh. "Betrayal?" she howled. "You don't know betrayal." Riven's only response was to cock her head in confusion. Clairifying, Soraka said "This was where I saw the Melters in person. I called upon the stars to do something, but they refused. I had to take matters into my own hands- and they turned me into… this" She gestured at her own legs- now like a goat- and her unicorn-like horn. "My only hope now is to make the stars understand the horror that is Warwick and Singed." Soraka turned away to study the stars that had not yet been chased away by the morning sun.

Warwick and Singed- it always went back to those two. They'd killed Riven's company, they'd killed all the Ionians, they'd destroyed the Noxian ideal. Warwick and Singed… they had to be stopped.

Maybe this was a possibility of doing so.

"Soraka," Riven burst out. "Help me punish Warwick and Singed." Soraka turned back around, with a raised eyebrow. "They need to be stopped somehow, and together we can do it," Riven continued.

"And how do I know you won't just backstab me, Noxian?" Soraka asked.

"I have a grudge against them too," Riven said. "They destroyed the thing I lived for. As long as they still live, I cannot rebuild it."

Soraka turned her head, studying something far off in the distance. After a few long minutes, an answer finally came. "Alright."

Riven stepped forwards, holding out a hand still surrounded by her last piece of Noxian plate. Soraka stepped forwards, her small hand engulfed by the massive gauntlet, but pulsing with magic.

Together, they clasped their hands, silhouetted against the sun.

Together, they would get revenge against Warwick and Singed.

And together, they would make the world a better place.


	18. An Artist

*waves awkwardly* Hey guys, I'm still alive. Kind of.

Anyways, sorry for the hiatus, I may or may not have hit a massive block spanning a month. I am proud to say, though, that I've written 5 pages today- a good start for getting back into Fanfiction.

This pair happens to have been suggested by a fellow writer named KobuZero. Go check out her work, it's pretty good :)

* * *

Another day, another suitor.

This was Ahri's life, one which she was readily growing weary of. Yes, she used to prey on men for their souls. Yes, she used to have sex with men in order to do that. No, she did not appreciate every other man (self-entitled League Champions and Summoners, bastards all of them) attempting to bend her over and try to ravage her because her breasts and hips were larger than normal.

The truth was, Ahri flirted with everyone, but that was for a purpose. She wanted information, maybe influence- it was amazing what secrets an enamored Summoner might divulge, or the hesitation that might occur in a Champion on the Fields of Justice. It was true, she wore revealing clothing, and shook her hips _maybe_ a little more than was necessary. But honestly, these days, too many people thought that being able to lift a cow over their head with one arm was enough to get sleeping rights with every woman in a 10 mile vicinity.

Ahri wasn't looking for strength- there were too many muscle bound idiots in the League for her to be impressed by feats of fortitude or power. She wanted someone who could do more than scream, rage, and mindlessly beat upon something in front of them. She wanted someone smart, disciplined, precise, _creative_.

Her thoughts distracted her from where she had been going, and Ahri found that her feet had carried her to the practicing grounds, where Champions could hone their skills against straw dummies, against trained warriors that the League provided, or in tightly controlled environments, even other Champions. Looking towards the dummy section of the grounds, she saw a perfect example of her disgust.

Olaf currently had two axes, and was furiously whipping them at the dummy in front of him. A loud roar constantly issued from his mouth, and foam dripped out of the corner of his lip.

_Thwak._

_Thwak._

_Thawk. _

Suddenly, Olaf jumped upwards with both of his axes raised high, and brought them down upon the dummy with a thundering crash. There was a huge plume of dust that rose into the air. When it cleared, Olaf was panting, a large cut bleeding on his foot where he'd cut it by accident. The remnants of the training dummy sat in front of him, straw spilt everywhere, and totally annihilated.

Seeing the injury, medical orderlies hurried towards the berserker, intent on treating his wound. Olaf pushed them away in anger, and walked past another occupied pit on his way back to his quarters.

This particular pit had someone else in it, with a totally different style. The dummy had multiple small red dots painted on it, each one a vital point or weak point in typical armor. As Ahri watched, a rapier almost _danced_ around dummy, each time making a careful slice or stab- each one piercing one of the red dots with what seemed like minimal effort, before darting out again to puncture the dummy in a different spot.

Ahri's eyes moved from the rapier assaulting the dummy to the person that was wielding it. There stood Fiora, a her mouth pressed into a thin line in concentration as she brought her rapier around to slash at the dummy yet again. She watched as Fiora, despite the sweat that ran down her forehead and arms, and despite the obvious tiredness of her body, continued to lunge and slash away at the dummy.

Entranced by the swordplay in front of her, Ahri was startled when Fiora suddenly stopped, muttering "three hundred". The Duelist stepped backwards, put her sword in a guard position, then suddenly lunged from 5 feet away to pierce the dummy in one of the dots. Muttering, "one", Fiora stepped backwards before lunging yet again.

"Two." came the number automatically out of Ahri's mouth. Fiora looked up, only just noticing the spectator. She lowered her rapier and quirked an eyebrow in curiosity, wondering why the Fox had been watching her practice.

Ahri, understanding the unspoken question, opened her mouth to say something, anything that might explain her presence. But what could she say? "You're different than the men that try to fuck me every day"? But even as she tried to come up with a response, Ahri realized that was the exact reason why she had been drawn to the pit- a style different than the brute-force methods used by the majority of champions.

"It's just..." Ahri began, stammering for the first time since her transformation. "The way you fight is different. It's not about brute force- it's grace, a dance of death." She looked away, embarrassed to say the next words. "It's not as much combat as it is... art."

"But of course," declared Fiora, before a devious grin appeared on her face. "I am an artist with a sword..." turning towards wooden board, with her rapier up and slashing in an instant. "In more ways than one," finished Fiora with a smirk. A moment later, Ahri's head moved forwards unconsciously to behold "Teemo?" The smirk on Fiora's face widened a bit more.

"I must say, Ahri," said Fiora, stumbling over the name for a moment, "you are an artist as well. I may be one with my sword, but you," her gaze moved down, before continuing. "you are an artist, with your body as the canvas."

Ahri shivered for a moment. Had Fiora just flirted with her? Although nothing changed on the insides -Ahri was a master at concealing her emotions- a devious smile played on the inside. Two could play at that game.

"Oh, but your grace and _speed_ knows no bounds, Duelist." replied Ahri. "I wonder if it could be so even in places other than the battlefield."

Fiora's eyes widened comically as the full implication of Ahri's words hit her. The foxy lady pressed on with, "and your creativity is unmatched, _Fiora_." Ahri's voice rolled her name around playfully, promising so many things left unsaid. "Why don't we go... make some art together," finished Ahri with a conspiratorial whisper, and with the promise of so much in the intonation in her voice.

Fiora found herself drawn to that way Ahri pronounced words, the sway of her hips, the fluffy white tails waving lazily in the breeze. She almost found herself saying yes without thinking, but suddenly a wave of horror hit her. _Honor. Discipline. Honor. Discipline_. She repeated these two words in an attempt to stave off the foxy lady's charms, but she knew she couldn't hold out for long before those large, deep, pleading, black eyes got to her, or the tails which she could imagine curled up lovingly around her wai-

_What am I thinking?_ Fiora asked to herself. She opened eyes which she hadn't remembered closing, and looked at Ahri. Perhaps she could scare her away with bravado before she succumbed. "My art lies with the sword only, and not with anything you can offer." She followed it up with a half-hearted sneer, but knew even before Ahri responded that it wouldn't do anything to dampen the fox's enthusiasm.

"Two artists always paint a greater picture than one alone..." Ahri whispered in her ear. Wait, when had Ahri gotten to her ear?

Fiora stood stiffly, but feeling Ahri's breath on her ear was tantamount to unbearable agony. Ahri's tongue then darted out, just barely brushing Fiora's ear. The Duelist was now shaking in her attempt to remain standing, and not just fold to the ground like her joints were jelly, because they totally weren't, Ahri wasn't doing this to-

Fiora promptly crumbled to her knees as Ahri planted a small kiss on the crook of her neck. "Uuuuuuhhhh..." was the only sound that came out of Fiora's mouth as Ahri became increasingly frisky, first only starting with kisses on the side of the neck, then beginning to fondle Fiora's relatively large bosom.

Ahri's hand turned Fiora's head to meet her own. "Let's go make some art together," Ahri whispered again, a mischievous grin on her face. This time, Fiora had no power to resist, as Ahri slowly tugged her to her quarters in the League's dormitories.

Fiora couldn't resist saying one last thing before they entered Ahri's room. "Why-"

Ahri cut her off with a kiss to the lips, and began darting her tongue out onto Fiora's lips and into her mouth, before opening the door, and pulling them both inside.

Those who went into that particular hallway could hear moans, screams, and other noises of pleasure for the entire night.


	19. True Strength, Part 1

There had been a small dispute between Ionia and Demacia regarding the ownership of a particular island. Unable to be solved diplomatically, the leaders of each country turned to the League.

Each country's respective champions had come to duke it out on Summoner's Rift, and top lane was no exception.

Irelia's eyes narrowed as she squinted from the safety of her tower into the gloom of the bushes. She suddenly thought, "I brought Flash and Ignite for this battle," before realizing it was the summoner himself thinking that, and that his thoughts were bleeding over through the link shared by them. She tuned out the foreign presence in her mind with practiced ease as she moved into the bushes with caution.

Jarvan was not there.

Irelia moved to the edge with silence honed by countless battles- and tempered in even more deaths when she hadn't been quiet enough. Temporarily splitting her father's blade- her blade- she assumed direct control of the particular fragment, and sent it to fly around the other bush. She was rewarded by grunt, the now bloodied blade returning to her, and with the point of a lance quickly following it.

It was Irelia's turn to grunt as the lance caught her in her side- just piercing through her armor, and drawing a miniscule amount before retracting.

Irelia had been so absorbed in her standoff that she didn't realize the minions had arrived, and had begun beating upon each other. Realizing one was about to fall, she dashed forwards with blinding speed and pierced it in the chest. Feeling a sense of approval- probably bleeding over from her Summoner- Irelia turned and slashed at another one, causing it to fall, before noticing a huge lance moving towards her from the brush. Reacting instinctively, she dashed to another minion to her left, dodging the lance by a hair's breadth.

Jarvan finally saw fit to move out the bush, she saw. He simply thrust his lance again, piercing two of her unfortunate minions. He turned to face her.

"Captain of the Guard. Submit. You cannot win this fight."

Irelia snorted. Jarvan could be completely insufferable at times. "And you think I'll just give up? After all I've been through?" Irelia moved to the side and struck another minion. "I would say the same to you."

Jarvan growled. "My lance will prevent you from reaching me, my armor will prevent you from harming me. You have no chance."

Irelia almost laughed. It was true, Jarvan had reach. But Irelia's extensive training and style, as well as the power of the blades in her hands, granted her greater mobility, speed, and flexibility. "Lets see if you can catch me." said Irelia.

Eight minutes passed in this manner, with taunts and occasional weapons flying across the lane. Minions fell, but champions stood strong throughout the fight.

Then Jarvan struck down one last minion, and his mind finally merged enough with his summoner's to begin to call down his true power. Suddenly leaping fowards with crushing force, Jarvan hurled himself at Irelia, causing a huge crater at his point of impact. His lance surged forwards, thirsting for blood. It found it.

Irelia winced as her left arm was cut. She was only moments away from allowing her summoner to unlock her true potential, but moments could be the death of her in this arena. She turned around, and allowed her summoner to carry her to a group of fighting minions outside of the arena, quickly striking three down, and gaining that burst of strength that it entailed.

Jarvan, only seeing only the cowardly action of Irelia running, leapt out of the crater and landed by Irelia, whom he believed to still be weak. He was faced by the Captain of the Guard, with not four, but eight blades floating around her.

Tossing a standard carrying the gold and blue of Demacia, Jarvan fearlessly pulled himself up to Irelia, and slashed fowards with his lance.

Irelia flipped up and backwards over the lance, and sent the four summoned blades to rip through Jarvan. They swarmed around the Crown Prince like so many wasps, stinging, but the Prince did not allow himself to fall. He pressed forwards, his Lance ever warding, his shield and armor ever guarding. The blades failed to penetrate his defense.

Irelia's swords faded, but she was now strengthened. Surging forwards, she dodged first one stab, then took a glancing blow from another standard, tumbling out of control. Righting herself before landing behind Jarvan, she ordered her swords to slash at his back. Blood spurted from the wound, as the blades slashed again, and Jarvan fell to his knees. Another slash.

Grunting from the pain, Jarvan reversed the grip in his lance and thrust backwards. He hit a surprised Irelia square in the chest and she flew backwards into the brush. After being briefly winded, she slowly stood up, panting heavily, and bleeding profusely from her wounds. Her swords came up however, deadly as ever, ready to pierce the foe in front of her.

Meanwhile Jarvan, thanks to the restorative magics of the Field and a health potion he had chugged preemptively, was able to stand up almost instantly, and stood proudly as ever, even as the wounds in his back slowly closed. He began to move towards the brush.

Irelia, meanwhile, readied her blades.

Jarvan entered the brush- and Irelia was waiting. Two of her swords stabbed into Jarvan's arms, rendering him unable to retaliate, as the other two slashed at his chest repeatedly. His armor now was unable to keep up, as several long slashes opened up along the Prince's torso.

Suddenly, Irelia felt her movements slow. Watching helplessly as her swords slashed with barely enough force to cut butter, she witnessed Jarvan ripping free of her other two swords and grabbing his lance. Her last feeling as his lance pierced her body was disappointment at the burns that now afflicted Jarvan's body. Disappointment that it had to end that way, rather than two warriors fighting it out the way they should've.

Jarvan felt satisfaction as his lance pierced the Captain's body, yet still felt pain. He looked down at his body, and saw flames. Hot burning flames.

His last thoughts were of anger. How dare that summoner take that rightful victory away from him! How...dare...

The match promptly ended before the two could fight again, due to every summoner on the Demacian side surrendering besides Jarvan's. It appeared that Vayne and Sona could not hold at bot lane, and defeat was considered inevitable.

It was so anticlimatic that Jarvan could cry. Defeat was never inevitable. But those milk-drinkers of magicians would never know that.

He stepped off platform, and looked at the scoreboard in disgust. "Zero to six" he muttered to himself. "How can those idiots even-" A quick glance at where Vayne was not-so-subtly brandishing her crossbow silenced him.

In public, that was.

Jarvan's eyes then glanced over to his own.

One kill. One death. "Damn ignite," he muttered.

Irelia, just stepping off her own platform, heard Jarvan's curse. Glancing over, she saw what he was staring at. Her own lips curved downwards in a frown. Her own death... it had only happened because of that damn exhaust. Jarvan couldn't have won without it, yet he blamed everything on the last ditch ignite her summoner had thrown out? That idiot couldn't recognize something that saved his life if it bit him in the butt. She had clearly won that through skill alone, and if it weren't for the summoner spells...

Jarvan looked over, and said softly, "Say that again?"

Irelia, confused for a moment, suddenly realized that she'd been thinking aloud. But she never backed down. The captain squared her jaw and said "You wouldn't have killed me without the aid from your summoner."

Hearing this, the majority of the champions, summoners, and assorted spectators quickly made their leave. None wanted to get in front of either angry, and just the look of determination on both their faces scared the majority of those remaining witless.

Jarvan, on the other hand, was now positively fuming. How dare she possibly say that when the summoner spells of ignite and flash were the only thing that saved her? How could she be so ignorant to his superior skill and training? His eyes narrowed as he ground out with clenched teeth, "Sparring grounds. Now. We'll settle the score there- once, and _for all_."

Irelia, noticing the look in his eyes, guessed what he had been thinking. She was now extremely angry herself. "If you think you can take me," she spat out and turned her back on Jarvan.

-5 minutes later-

On their approach to the sparring grounds, everyone either individual had met had either made a quick excuse to leave, or simply fled at the sight of the looks in their eyes. Both had murder in their faces, and practically everyone in the League knew not to bother either when that happened.

When they reached the actual grounds, Jarvan headed for the open air pits. Irelia, however, headed for the indoor sparring arena. Jarvan, after a moment of thought, joined her.

When he in the gymnasium, which included paneled floors, and ropes for practicing climbing, he shrugged. "You chose the place, I choose the rules." Thinking about Irelia's way of fighting and her reliance on her father's blade, he smirked for a moment. "No equipment, no weapons, no armor. Unarmed fighting."

There was a clink. Irelia's armor and sword dropped to the ground. "You think I need my swords to defeat you?" she asked, as she took up a stance in the other side of the room, wearing nothing but an sleeveless undershirt and short trousers. She beckoned Jarvan over, who was wearing nothing but short trousers himself.

The Prince walked over, and took a stance. They began to circle, probing at each other's defenses.

Jarvan began by swinging, but Irelia dodged. She tried to get inside his defense, but it was impossible for her to get through the furious defense his arms provided. She did a quick hook-jab combo, but Jarvan's arms prevented her from actually doing damage.

Jarvan then tried going on the offensive, but no matter how much he swung, Irelia managed to dodge somehow, every time.

They quickly found themselves falling into much the same roles as before, with Jarvan's longer arms allowing him the advantage in reach, but Irelia's speed and flexibility allowing her to dodge incoming blows easily. It quickly became a stalemate, both sides cautious, occasionally skirmishing, but mostly waiting for the other to make a mistake.

However, Irelia was tiring faster. Her style required much movement, and as such, she couldn't keep up the pace much longer. Even now, she took glancing blows on punches she wouldn't dodged outright just a few minutes earlier. Glancing upwards, she had an idea.

Running forwards, she jumped. Jarvan, expecting this, swung a fist at where he thought Irelia was going to be.

She wasn't there.

Irelia grabbed onto one of the many ropes that hung from the ceiling and swung above the Prince. As Jarvan craned his head upwards to see where she'd gone, she began to swing back downwards.

Irelia let go.

Jarvan finally noticed her, and began to turn his body.

She landed, the force of her fall impacting the Prince so hard that he fell backwards. Irelia landed on top of him.

Realizing the positions they were in and the attire they were wearing, they both froze for what felt like hours, but was only a minute at most.

Jarvan stared at Irelia, panting above him. Irelia stared at Jarvan, his muscles tensed under her.

Her mouth suddenly descended onto his, as the outside world melted away at each other's touches.

* * *

Waddlebuff, rejoice. Lemons are coming (part two of this).

That being said, it will be provided by link seeing as I don't want to turn this into an M rated story.

Anyone who gets the references sprinkled in here gets an internet cookie.

Oh, and sorry for disappearing D=

As always, comments and reviews are always welcome.

-Dorryza


	20. True Strength, Part 2 Link

Alright, firstly sorry for being so slow about this.

Secondly, Chapter 2 is out. But, it happens to be rated M. And I'd prefer if this particular story remained T.

A compromise is therefore required. A compromise involving a new story.

There are two ways to access the the new chapter and story. One is to go directly through my profile, find and click it.

The other way is to click on this link:

s/8634274/1/Relationships-rated-C-for-Citrus

-note, for any other stories that I may do this for in the future, this is what I will end up doing.

Don't forget to review! I'd really like to know how I did writing the lemon, seeing as it was my first time.

-Dorryza


	21. Questions

Gah. Sorry again for not updating a lot. School has just been hitting me hard.

This particular story is less of a Relationship, persay, but more of a monologue. Also, I took the relationship in an unusual direction. Be sure to grill me in reviews if you don't like it.

And just because I haven't said it in a while, all characters, setting, ideas etc. belong to Riot Games, not me.

* * *

Loneliness and Sadness.

Those were two emotions that Amumu knew very well. Others in the Institute always had their friends, comrades. Those that didn't were so different and unique that they simply didn't need them. Others had things to keep them happy, ranging from fighting to arguing and from building to just having sex.

But Amumu was always alone. No one really noticed the little blue mummy standing in the corner, a small puddle of tears gathering beside him. He would sit in the mess hall, or in the library, all day. But the only people that would even notice him were his summoners, and even then, they would be speaking about his performance in battle. Why didn't they understand? He wanted a friend, not a tactician.

From time to time, he would be summoned into battle. He would get angry at the people who came and hit him, and the monsters too, but he was mostly just sad instead. And when he got out he would just sit again at a corner somewhere until it was time to sleep, and then he would get to his room.

He would walk in, wave at the sensor to activate the magical lights in the main room, and plod into the bathroom.

He entered. The lights in there were off. He kept them that way. The room was decorated in a light blue. Towels hung on the walls, but Amumu headed towards the bathtub. It was tall, and his hands barely reached the top. He reached up, grasping it, straining to pull himself up.

He finally succeeded after several minutes of exertion, hoisting himself on top of the ceramic, and lowering himself into the bathtub.

And surrounded by curtains and the ceramic bowl, Amumu sat, head hung.

The first indication was a slight sniffle. A bit of an extra gleam in his left eye, that massive yellow orb.

Then suddenly, tears poured out into the ground, streaking down the blue bandages of his oversized head, dripping off ragged sheets that hadn't been fully tucked in, pooling briefly in the bowl, before gathering in enough volume to slink into the drain in the center.

And, just like every other day, Amumu sat in the tub the entire night, and cried.

As the stars and moon slowly gave way to the light of the sun peeking out from under the sleepy folds of the hills around the Institute, Amumu's crying slowed. Now, instead of rivulets streaming down his body, only drops fell.

There was one last drop, hanging by only a thread of water- that fell.

Amumu felt the familiar pull, and was surrounded by blue light- the signature of summoning magic. An instant later, he was gone.

The droplet splashed down into the bowl; its owner- disappeared.

* * *

That match, Amumu had been on the same team as someone new- a woman called Vayne. She was dressed in dark clothes- didn't even speak a word, before heading off in a particular direction. As the match went on, it was almost as if she didn't notice her teammates, only ensuring that their opponents wound up with crossbow bolts in their hearts.

After that match, Amumu walked into his room again, thinking about the new champion. She was quiet, she kept to herself, she did her job and left.

Was she lonely?

Sitting down, not in the bathtub but this time in a chair, the mummy placed his chin on his hands in the universal sign of contemplation.

Did she have friends?

Sighing deeply, Amumu continued thinking.

Was she so bottled up because she was so lonely?

Shaking his head immediately at the thought, he lay down on his bed, thinking.

She was lonely, right? And maybe… all she wanted was a friend.

And all he wanted was to have a friend.

She would be happy to have a friend…

…Right?

His mind drifted off, imagining what it might be like to finally have a friend.

* * *

The next day, as Amumu was walking down the hallways of the Institute, he saw Vayne leaving her room, and locking it with what appeared to be multiple different security systems. Making a quick decision, the mummy quickly waddled over to her before she left the vicinity of her door.

He stumbled to a stop directly beside her. Vayne, with her tuned senses, had already turned around. All Amumu could manage to say was an "um…"

"Well?" asked Vayne, her expression and tone unreadable.

"Well Miss Vayne…" Amumu trailed off again.

"Get to the point" Vayne snapped rather harshly. Amumu shrunk down a bit.

"I was just wondering…" Amumu said, a bit hesitantly now. "Do you…" his voice got constantly quieter as he felt her eyes bore into him, even from behind her sunglasses. "do you want… to be… friends?"

"Friend?" asked Vayne incredulously. "What do you mean?" Again, this was said in a harsh and cruel tone.

"Y'know, friends play games together…" Amumu, who was already very nervous before, was now regretting ever speaking. "They tell each other secrets…." His voice trailed off, shoulders slumped, sensing the disdain emanating from the Night Hunter.

"Play games?" asked Vayne mockingly. "Tell secrets?" She snorted contemptuously. "I have no time for such nonsense." And with that, she turned and briskly began walking away. She left a mummy, simply standing there dejectedly, crushed.

He left a trail of tears as he slunk back to his room. He got in, not even bothering to turn on the lights. He tried to climb up into the bathtub, but his arms were shaking. He couldn't hoist himself above the edge of the tub.

He simply sat down in the bathroom, not even caring anymore about the water or potential damage. And the tears began to spill out.

A large drop gathered in his left eye, before beginning to streak down. Where did he mess up?

It hit the ground, as another great droplet formed in his right eye. Why did no one like him?

Tears rained down, as if chasing questions. Did Vayne really hate him so much? That she would dismiss him as simply nonsense? When would he find a friend? Did _no one_ want to be his friend?

Soon, drops turned into small rivers. What was he doing wrong? Why did no one ever want to do something like play a game, or tell secrets? Why was he so different? What _about him_ was so different? What did others like to do? Why didn't he like to do those things? Why did everyone seem to hate him? Why did nothing ever seem to go right?

Large drops gathered in both his eyes. They dripped down, fused at the bottom of his chin, and dripped down as a huge combined sphere of salty tears, splashing into the puddle around him.

Why?

Why was he so _alone_?

…Why?


	22. The True Reason

Sorry for disappearing. Add being sick to finals and visiting relatives, and I've been out of time for writing, unfortunately.

Anyways, this one is for Christmas. Merry Christmas guys, and thanks for reading

* * *

A lone figure, standing on a snowy hill. Below it was a vast plain of undisturbed snow, with the hint of violet mountains in the distance. The sun shone weakly over it all, making the entire field sparkle like the world's largest glitter pile.

She- and it was a she- stood there in silent appreciation of that otherworldly beauty of Freljord.

A voice beside her almost whispered, "It is beautiful, isn't it."

She did not turn her head. "Sejuani." It was not a question, but a statement. "Why are you here?"

"I think you know very well why I'm here, Ashe", growled Sejuani. She looked down for a moment, then whipped her head back up to face Ashe's. "This conflict needs to end", she muttered.

"That is true, and I thank you for finally realizing that," Ashe said. Then she turned her head to face her fellow Princess. "But that is not the main reason why you've come here today."

"I-" Sejuani was at a loss for words. "Well-"

"Yes?" prompted Ashe.

"I like you" Sejuani blurted out. Ashe's only response was a raised eyebrow. "It's part of the reason why I've been fighting you all this time. I needed to _see_ you, and battle let me see you a lot. The League too- that's partly why I joined the League.

"It started when I was thirteen, and you were fifteen. During that annual gathering the tribes had, you were dancing on the stage, and you were so beautiful and graceful, and-" Sejuani stopped, realizing that all she was doing was digging herself into a deeper hole.

There was a moment of awkward silence.

"So, about the food situation…" Ashe began, breaking the silence. "Rakelstake has enough food to last your tribe eleven months, but after that, you'll have to grow your own." Sejuani nodded. She couldn't expect Ashe to feed her tribe indefinitely.

"But where?" Sejuani asked. "Most of the arable land is already taken."

"You'll have to move North," started Ashe. Suddenly she had a realization as her eyes widened, and she finished her sentence in a whisper. "and take land like this," spreading out her arms to show exactly what she meant. Sejuani looked out, squinting at the blinding snow. Ashe shook her head, saying "I'll find another way."

The two sat in silence, just watching the plains, and the day lengthened. Then it ended, and the two sat under the great patchwork paints of the Aurora Borealis, splashed across the sky.

Then the wind picked up. Both of the two princesses, despite their great affinity for the cold, began to shiver.

Sejuani started to stand. "Returning to my tribe," she explained to Ashe, who was still sitting. Ashe shook her head. "Stay," she said. "I have a tent."

Sejuani stopped midstep. Ashe was already walking towards a forest at the foot of the hill. Upon reaching the trees, Sejuani saw that Ashe had already set up a small leather tent. At the doorway stood the Frost Archer, looking like she was ready to facepalm. " Sorry," she said. "I've only got a small tent, and one bedroll. I wasn't expecting company…"

With that, Ashe entered the tent.

Sejuani shivered for a bit. This time, it was not from the cold. Taking in a deep breath, she entered the tent as well.

Inside, Ashe was already in the bedroll, facing the wall. Sejuani slipped in as well, facing the opposite direction. The bedroll was designed for one person, so the two's bodies touched. Where ever Sejuani's skin touched Ashe's, Sejuani felt a warm, tingling sensation. Little did she know that Ashe felt the same exact thing.

Sejuani tried to relax, but with Ashe next to her, it was impossible to not feel slightly tense. Ashe, on the other hand, started to breathe slower. It appeared that she'd fallen asleep.

Then-

"Sejuani."

She turned over to face Ashe.

"You said earlier that you liked me."

Ashe turned over, and Sejuani tensed for the inevitable rebuke.

"This might come as a surprise, but-"

And suddenly, she was enveloped with this warm, comforting sensation. After a few seconds of her mind blanking, Sejuani realized it was Ashe's lips on her own.

The two broke apart again, panting.

Smiling, Ashe finished, "I like you too."

And the two's lips joined again. Ashe tasted sweet, succulent, and warm to Sejuani. She reminded her of a delicate tea, as graceful in her taste, as she was in life.

To Ashe, Sejuani tasted like a peppermint- strong, slightly overpowering, but intoxicating.

The two's lips locked.

They didn't part for the rest of the night.


	23. Out

Sorry for randomly disappearing for 2 months. I was busy with both writers block and midterms. Things have been kind of hectic, but I finally ended up squeezing this one out.

Oh, and I'm thinking about restarting either Escape from the League or The True Enemy. Please note the _thinking about, _but it's a potential thing to look for in the future.

And without further ado, here's the next part of Relationships:

* * *

She sat in the corner, alone. It was an odd feeling, which she still hadn't entirely gotten used to. There was nothing to kill, nothing to fight, no reason for the rising anger that inevitably changed her into the dragon that everyone feared and despised.

When Jarvan had offered a place for her in Demacia's military, she thought she'd be accepted. No one would look down upon her for being a half-breed, such as every dragon who she'd met, which had all inevitably tried to kill her. She'd been trying to escape the discrimination and the glares filled with hatred from superstitious villagers. Yet, it seemed that Demacians, paragons of purity, were not very accepting of a half-dragon within their ranks.

As she had passed her 'comrades' in the hallways earlier that day, she could not have helped but notice the superstitious signs some of them made, attempting to ward off evil. Others glared. One brave- or perhaps foolish- man had even deigned to spit in front of her. Her yellow- almost golden- eyes had narrowed at him at that- spooked, he'd started walking away very quickly.

As always, just being in the presence of her so called compatriots was enough to raise her ire. But she knew that hold the anger in. If it built up too much… well, she couldn't exactly control her transformation. And suddenly turning into a dragon, raging though the Royal Palace, and slaughtering legions of Demacia's Finest would bring only exile or death, despite what Jarvan wanted. Once, that had actually happened- a man had crudely insulted both her mother and herself in terms so crude and vulgar it hurt to think about them. Ten minutes later, an astonished platoon of Royal Guardsmen had arrived to see the sight of an annihilated courtyard with a dragon-sized crater and hole in the walls, as well as a set of Demacian plate- streaked with blood- strewn all over the yard, with a pair of gauntlets and pauldrons even tossed on top of the walls. And even more shocking was the sight of their Crown Prince talking to the dragon, even petting it on the nose. Then it shrunk, and turned into their fellow guardswoman Shyvana, whom Jarvan had brought back only a few years ago. That incident had hardly helped her reputation- especially since the man who'd made such a nice meal was actually the son of an influential noble family who was now out baying for her blood, and Jarvan had explained that he wouldn't be able to protect her if a similar occurrence happened again. And so, whenever Shyvana's anger began to build up to dangerous levels, she retreated to self-exile.

Her place of self-exile happened to be an abandoned shrine that, despite being in good shape and having weathered the years relatively well, appeared to have been all but forgotten by the nation in which it was situated.

It was a little thing- square, and just large enough for a person to lie down in each direction. In the side opposite from the door was a little pedestal, complete with a holder for incense, as well as a bowl-shaped depression designed to hold food offerings- above the pedestal was a great circle of pure white painted on the wall. There was a slight hint of incense that had been burned here in the past. However, it was not fresh- it was likely that no such burning had been performed here in recent times. It was abandoned, out of the way, an unassuming, stout little building made of stone, standing squat in the middle of a large meadow.

Shyvana had been here many times before. Whenever she felt her anger beginning to overcome her, she retreated here. But those times had all been during the day- now it was night time. The stars twinkled in the night sky, and the great big orb that was the full moon shone with unearthly white splendor across the quiet countryside.

Looking back at the white sphere which she'd never really noticed that made up one of the walls, Shyvana began thinking. The location, devoid of trees, allowed unobstructed view of the sky, and the moonlight flooding in through a slit in the wall seemed to illuminate the entire room. That sphere made sense then- it was a depiction of the moon. This little building, therefore, was a temple, perhaps for people who had worshipped the moon, maybe from before Demacia was even a country. But who could they poss-

_Crunch_.

It was faint and far-off but Shyvana's heightened senses, due to her dragon blood, still picked up the sound of footsteps in the distance.

They came closer. And closer. And a human-shaped shadow poked into the small bit of light the space beneath the door gave.

And the door, creaking slightly, opened slowly.

* * *

It had been a long day.

Grueling League match after grueling League match followed by a hostile stare-down between her and some of Leona's Solari retainers had left her entirely drained. She was tense, wound up, and in need of both relaxation and communication with the moon.

Sometimes, she felt so alone. In reality, she was. Any in the Solari who might be sympathetic to her cause had already "left to find themselves in meditation". They had all left on journeys which all inevitably ended in a bandit raid or pirate attack- a tragic loss, said the Solari elders, nodding knowingly. It felt that the only thing she could talk to- her Summoners were impartial, impersonal, and uncaring- was the moon, and in spirit, the souls of those Lunari who had passed before her. They welcomed her when no one else would, gave her encouragement and praise, and quiet when she needed it.

They could give her peace.

But the quiet, the peace which she normally felt when approaching the temple wasn't there. Something felt tense- other than herself, that is- and she became wary. Had the Lunari been so bold to come here?

As a result, she opened the door slowly and cautiously, preparing for anything that could possibly be waiting in the shrine.

Or so she thought- the person she saw there out of the corner of her eye was the last person she thought she'd see outside of the League.

* * *

As the door opened, Shyvana found herself balling her fists. How _dare_ those humans follow her into solitude- she was doing this as a favor to them. How _dare_ they disturb her peace. Their previous insults hadn't been enough? They wanted to hurt her even more? How _dare_ they think they were better than her just be being pure-blooded?

And therefore, as Diana opened the door completely and started to recognize the furious half-dragon barreling towards her, she was abruptly greeted by two gauntlets, burning hot, to her chest, along with a brutally crushing bite to her shoulder. The bottom half of her body started flying backwards, while the top half was held in place by the unrelenting grip of Shyvana's fanged teeth. She felt something in her body crack. Released suddenly, she slumped onto the ground, letting out a faint moan.

Over the red that had begun to seep into her vision, Shyvana suddenly realized who she had so viciously attacked. It wasn't a Demacian soldier or peasant who meant to pester her, or a bigot trying to insult her. This was Diana- a fellow champion of the League- and whose reverence of the moon had drawn her to this temple. In fact, this place was probably built or maintained by Diana, who herself had probably been expecting a quiet evening.

Even though she realized this, her anger was stubbornly refusing to subside. What had Master Lee told her? Ah- that the first step was simply to breathe deeply. Then, to carefully consider the source of her anger.

The more she thought about it however, the more guilty she became. She had nothing against Diana, who'd probably just tried to get some peace and quiet here, in her sanctuary, and had been attacked as a result.

She felt so guilty about it that she resolved to do something she'd never done before in her life.

Looking up, Diana saw the half-dragon Shyvana's gauntlet swing towards her. She blinked- instead of the crushing blow she'd expected (although, at this point, Diana hardly knew _what_ to expect), Shyvana's hand was held out in a position of reconciliation. Diana grabbed it, Shyvana helping her force her legs into a standing position, leaning on the wall.

"I-" Shyvana began, but abruptly trailed off, suddenly seeming to find the stone floor worthy of every bit of attention she currently possessed.

Diana's raised her eyebrow. _She looks_, she thought, _remarkably like a schoolgirl confessing a first crush._

Shyvana stared at her feet for what felt like hours- although they were only a matter of seconds- before speaking up this time. "I'm sorry."

As Diana almost jumped in confusion, Shyvana went on, looking ashamedly to the side. "I, uh…" A pause. "I thought you were someone else," she mumbled.

Diana was intrigued. "Who else?" she asked. She briefly wondered what could make the fierce Half-Dragon lash out so violently.

"People." Came the response. Shyvana was scowling dangerously. "Stupid people who can't accept anything they don't already think." She was staring at her dragon's head gauntlets now.

"It'll get bette-" Diana began, before Shyvana suddenly looked up, eyes blazing with anger.

"Do you know what it feels like? To be despised for whom you are? Shunned by everyone for a reason that shouldn't matter?" Her head began to droop. "Thinking you've got a home, and then realizing that everyone there _hates _you?"

"Actually, I do."

Shyvana's head whipped up in surprise. Diana almost laughed at the expression on her face. She could relate to everything Shyvana was saying- she could have been Shyvana when she was younger. She almost burst out chortling with the irony of it.

Diana continued. "I… was a researcher." Seeing Shyvana's confused face, she clarified, "A reader of books and searcher of history." Seeing Shyvana nod in understanding, she continued. "I found something. Perhaps the greatest find of our time." Here, she paused, remembering the glory, the wonder, the magnificence of the ancient Lunari temple that she'd uncovered.

"What was it?"

"Another story for another time," came the response from Diana. Seeing the scowl start to reform on Shyvana's face, she rolled her eyes and said, "something like this, but much bigger." She could see the gears in Shyvana's head turning. "Think larger than the Royal palace." Shyvana's mouth formed into a small "oh" of understanding. Diana chuckled. "Yeah, it's big."

"Anyways," she continued, "the people around me didn't like what I found." Now it was Diana's turn to start scowling. "Stupid Solari," she muttered. Shyvana quirked an eyebrow. "My family," Diana explained. "People who cared about me. " Her scowl deepened. "Or so I thought."

"What did they-" Shyvana started.

"They tried to execute me." Diana interrupted. She took a deep breath. "I killed them. I killed them all-"

"Oh."

The two sat down in silence for a few moments, Shyvana with a thoughtful look on her face, and Diana with a more guarded one.

"So how do you fix it?" Finally came the tentative question.

Diana sighed. "I-I-." She paused. "I really don't know." She thought for a bit.

"I guess… cut out what is unimportant, and concentrate on what matters." She grew silent as she was filled with thoughts of the glorious moon outside, and the Lunari that came before her. She muttered again, more to herself than to the woman next to her. "Concentrate on what matters..."

Shyvana also looked pensive. She knew what mattered to her- not the city of bright, blinding light she called her home now, but instead, the brave, strong man who had helped her, protected her, and saw something in her that no one else had ever seen before. That was what was truly important to her.

"I see what you mean," she said softly.

They both sat there in the temple, sometimes talking, sometimes not, for a long time.


	24. Neverending

Sorry. Life's gotten in the way (as well as a ton of distractions =_=), and I just scrooged up the time for this.

On a side note- Relationships has hit 101 reviews! You guys are awesome!

-enjoy

* * *

The Library was slightly cool. It was bright enough to read by. And it was quiet.

Usually.

Soft wing beats echoed down the hallway. He could hear it from inside the plain sandstone antechamber. He frowned. It was not Anivia, or he would have felt the chill of the icy Avian. It was not Quinn and Valor, Swain, or Ashe, as all their birds were too small to make the "whump" of displaced air that he currently heard. The only being with wings of sufficient size that would have a reason to visit him was-

"Kayle."

As if speaking her name summoned her, the double doors opening to the outside opened, letting a wave of heat into the room that almost felt like a physical wave. The angel flapped in.

"I request that you close the door. The heat damages the books."

She raised an eyebrow at him, almost as if she was daring him to challenge her. He simply stayed impassive, allowing no expression of impatience or emotion onto his face. She relented and extended one of her wings to nudge the door closed. There was a silence while the two studied each other.

She broke the silence first, seemingly impatient. "I require your aid in my fight." She waved her hand. "I'm sure you know what I mean. You, too, have also experienced the pain of a rebellious sibling, Nasus."

The anthropomorphic jackal made no outward response. "You wish for me to aid you in your fight against Morgana." Kayle simply nodded.

He pressed on. "You expect me to aid you because of a similar experience with Renekton." Kayle nodded again.

A deep sigh emanated from him. He stepped towards the doorway leading further into the construct that Nasus was in. He reached it, and turned back. He had not heard movement. Kayle was simply standing there, seemingly unwilling to follow. He shrugged inwardly and went deeper into a hallway. He passed several doors and opened one, seating himself inside the room. A small section consisting of several bookshelves was lit, with the rest out of reach of operating globes of light that had been provided by a friendly mage in the past. He pulled a book out of the shelf and started to read. The door was left open, spilling out a crescent of light into the hallway. If she chose to ignore him, that would be the end of it. If she chose to follow, she would be able to find him.

Eventually, wing beats started to get closer and closer. He closed his book, put it back onto the shelf, and waited.

Kayle appeared in the doorway.

He caught sight of her face. It was impatient and slightly angry. She was the entitled type then, not taking into considerations others besides herself. Nasus nodded to himself. That was not a surprise.

"Well?" Kayle demanded. "Will you aid me or will you let Morgana's evil continue to corrupt Valoran?"

"What is evil?"

Kayle paused for a second, caught off guard by the question. "It's when someone does bad things." She thought for another moment. "When they do things against the law that others, their greaters, decide."

"Laws like this?" Nasus pulled out a book. On its cover was a prominent title: _On the Possibilities of an Ideal Population_. Its author was Kayle.

Another book was displayed. Its title was _Rigid Rules for an Ideal Society_. Its author was again, Kayle.

Kayle nodded. "Rigid laws are what make stable society. People must be told what to do at all times. Freedom to choose will always end in moral decay, rebellion, and anarchy; and anarchy must be prevented at all costs."

Nasus looked at her. His eyes darted to her wings.

"Allow me to propose a hypothetical situation to you", Nasus said. "Say, you are high up in the sky. Your wings are rigid. They cannot move. Will you go anywhere but up?"

Growing increasingly angry, Kayle countered, "If they are so limp and weak as to be useless, will I fall faster?"

Nasus shook his head. "That was not my question. If you cannot move your wings, is there a possibility of going up?"

Kayle's face set into determined, angry lines. "I do not see the meaning of this pointless question." Her voice was growing only angrier.

"Answer it." Nasus was calm as ever.

"There could be thermal updri-"

"No." Nasus interrupted. "You cannot go up without movement and flexibility."

Kayle glared at Nasus.

"That is why," Nasus added with a snap, "there is this side."

Activated by the snap, the rest of the lights in the room turned on. They revealed a vast room, many times larger than the small section that had been illuminated before, completely filled with bookshelves. Nasus walked among them, picking out books from various sections.

"Morgana's side made these," he stated in a louder than usual voice. He held up first a treatise on taste in food, then a scroll filled with writing advice for novices, then a guidebook giving out all the pros of playing music. He looked back at Kayle. "Do you have anything to compare?"

"Yes," hissed Kayle. "We are not dreadful anarchists that allow lawlessness, discord, and dissonance to plague our society. The laws I make will ensure that will never happen." Her sword lit on fire, her conviction and emotions manifesting itself through her magic. "Look at Noxus! Look at Zaun! They were lax in the law, and now anarchy, power grabs, and death are rampant! I must prevent uphold the strictest laws to ensure that never happens to my society!"

"And how many have died as a result of your strict inflexibility?" Nasus pulled out another book- this one a record of those that had died in the war. The tome was massive, with pages easily in the thousands. Nasus opened up to a random page. He began reading. "Larus Hrongar- executed for loving a Heretic. Anne Paupes- executed for stealing a loaf of bread. Jules Sonden- executed for composing a song in minor key. Caius Yoru- executing for speaking Morgana's name. Sarah Yoru- executed for daring grieve for her husband." The book closed with a snap and Nasus turned his gaze on the Judicator. "Your hands are just as stained."

Kayle began sputtering, but Nasus simply talked over her. "I fought my brother, and others of my kind as well. But I was fighting against what you are fighting for- I was fighting for freedom of knowledge and protection and guidance of those under us, not tyranny over those that cannot fight back. Although I find Noxus and Zaun to be less than ideal examples of city-states, I refused and still refuse to support tyranny and despotism. As such, I will not support you in your fight against Morgana."

Kayle was now almost radiating hatred. "I see you've made your choice. You _will_ regret it," she spat out. She turned around and flew out, slamming the door as she passed through it.

Nasus looked at the door, then sat down. "The cycle between order and chaos, tyranny and anarchy, continues. If Kayle prevails, another Morgana will rise to challenge her. If Kayle fails, another Kayle will rise to take her place."

He reached out to the bookshelf, took out a book with the intention recording the conversation he'd just had with the Judicator. He began to write, musing to himself,

"The cycle is neverending…."


	25. Gauntlet Buddies, Part 1

Wow. 1 year anniversary of Relationships. I can't even really believe that I hit it. I never thought this would last so long. But thank you everyone who's sticked with me for the full year, and those who have arrived sometime in between. You are all awesome. This is for all of you.

* * *

It was a quiet night in Piltover's outskirts- the twisting alleyways and streets home to some of the city's seedier elements. It was normally raucous at this time of night- this would be when the thieves and criminals came out to play, but he hadn't seen anyone in the past 20 minutes other than a wandering, muttering hobo.

Of course, that may have been due to the person coming into sight now. Neon pink hair bobbed up and down as she strutted along the street as though she owned it. She was happily whistling, slightly off-key, a tune that he couldn't really recognize. The gigantic metal fists encased over the flesh of her hands would occasionally hit one another, almost as if they were boxing. He hunched over slightly over his work. An encounter would be annoying and embarrassi-

"Hey Genius Boy! What're you doin' down here?"

Embarrassing.

Ezreal stood up after carefully placing his map on the ground and laying a stray stone on it so it wouldn't be blown around by the wind. "Just making a map. The commission realized that they didn't have proper maps of this entire section, and I have some free time, so…" He shrugged.

Vi began to laugh. "They just figured that out? Maybe that's why Cupcake back there" -she gestured back in the direction of the district station- "keeps getting lost in here!"

Ezreal let out a smile. "Well they didn't say that _specifically_…"

Vi let out another guffaw and pounded Ezreal on the back, not noticing that it left him stumbling and gasping for air. "Now, let's see that map." She held her chin with her gigantic gauntleted hands, peering down on the piece of paper. "You messed up Ludlow Way" she said after a moment of contemplation.

Ezreal's eyes narrowed. "I don't think so."

"Listen kid, I've been on these streets for fifteen years. I know this place. Ludlow Way actually-" she grabbed a pencil laying on the ground- "connects-" her brow scrunched up as she carefully maneuvered the tip to point to one particular spot in the map- "here."

Ezreal squinted at the map, then threw up his arms in resignation. "Fine, you win…" he grumbled, as Vi smirked- "this time…." He erased the previous street and scribbled in a few notes and edits.

"Say, Genius Boy-" Vi started. Ezreal noticeably twitched. Vi's smirk grew noticeably larger.

"Why do you even call me that?" Ezreal asked irritably.

"Oh, but it's because you're so smart. Teach me O Mast-"

She was cut off by Ezreal. "Alright, forget I said anything." He scribbled a few more lines into his map.

"You never answered my question, Genius Boy," Vi said. "Why are you out here all alone, during the night?"

"Well, no one's awake during the night. No one who's not a criminal." He looked up at her. "Wait- I mean-"

Vi laughed. "I can be a criminal when I want to."

Sighing, Ezreal continued. "Well, you know what I mean. And night because, well-" he shrugged. "I don't feel like being summoned at a bad time, and have the feedback destroy my map." He thought for a moment. "Also, accidentally destroying a block because of feedback from the summoning wouldn't be fun either."

"Well," Vi shoved Ezreal. "I'll join you. Streets are dangerous and all. Also can't have you dying on my watch. Looks bad." She gave half a shrug. "And it's boring down here. Company's nice."

"You mean annoying me for the rest of your patrol."

Vi looked at Ezreal with another smirk on her face. "What else?"

Ezreal just rolled his eyes and kept walking.

Oddly enough, it was Ezreal who began talking. "Why isn't anyone else down here too? No squadmates or anything?"

Vi rolled her eyes. "Cupcake and the rest of the high class are too busy-" she began to mimic Caitlyn's conspicuous accent very poorly- "we require a tea break at precisely 3, 5, and 8 every day. Oh no! A homeless person! They carry so many diseases, we can't go within 10 feet of them!" Returning to her normal voice after a snort, Vi continued, "Don't get me wrong. I love Cupcake and all. But, she has to get a little more flexible." She thought for a moment. "Well, it might also be because they get lost within 5 seconds down here anyways."

"So why doesn't she hire more people from down here?" Ezreal asked. "They would know the place inside out, and would have fewer… expectations."

Vi rolled her eyes. "I've been telling her that for years now! She doesn't listen. Goes on about things like-" she began the bad imitation of Caitlyn's accent again- "reliability, discipline, integrity, corruption" another snort. "Apparently, I'm the only one that caught her eye as a possibility, so here I am."

"So…" Ezreal paused for a second. "Does she have to worry about stuff like that with you? Corruption and all that?"

Vi turned her gaze on him, suddenly serious. "That's a very dangerous question to ask, kiddo."

Ezreal didn't back down, staring back.

Vi sighed. "Listen kid, you know I've got a past, and friends on the other side of the law. They show up in front of my face and I take them in. But I don't go looking for them, and they just stick to just enough crime to put food on the table, and that way, everyone's happy. Sound good?"

Ezreal frowned. "But that's still cri-"

"Do you know what it's like to be hungry? To be beat down, hit, starved?" Vi hissed. "I go after the guys that commit crimes for fun, or so they can just buy the next whore down the road. I stay away from the people who are just trying to survive. Alright? Now shut up."

Ezreal blinked in surprise. Vi was cocky, rude, brash, but he'd never seen her really angry. It was quite scary, and he resolved to avoid making her angry in the future at all costs.

A few more blocks.

"What do you think I would've been like if I'd grown up in the streets?" asked Ezreal. Vi turned to him with an upraised eyebrow.

"Well- just… curious…."

Vi studied him appraisingly. Ezreal felt similar to a gem being examined by a jeweler.

"You'd be fought over, actually." Ezreal started. Vi continued. "You'd have been snatched up by one of the illegal techmaturgy gangs." She thought a bit more. "Or maybe snatched up by the prostitutes."

Ezreal's face reddened. "P-p-p-p-prostitutes?"

Vi only laughed. "Well, you don't look too ba-"

A high pitched whine intruded into the conversation. Vi and Ezreal looked at each other for an instant, immediately comprehending what the whine meant. Vi had encountered it enough. Ezreal recognized it from fighting Caitlyn on the Fields of Justice. Ezreal threw himself behind a convenient bench. Vi simply powered up her blast shield. A crack. Vi didn't even budge, the only indication of the hit being a brief flickering of her blast shield.

There was a simple cry of "_get them!_", and then the mayhem began.

They found themselves surrounded by a group of maybe a dozen gangers, a few armed with rifles, but most with simple crowbars. They all ignored Ezreal, and almost exclusively ganged up on Vi. One of them jumped in and tried to smash Vi on the head with a sideways slash which she intercepted with a quick one-finger salute and an uppercut, breaking the attacker's jaw and leaving him sprawled out on the ground, moaning in pain. The rest were understandably cautious after that, attempting to spread out and surround the pink-haired menace.

Ezreal didn't give them a chance to do so. He ran out into the middle of the street. Vi noticed him.

"Get out of here, Genius Boy! I don't want you to get hurt!" she yelled. His only response was a grunt.

A grunt and a gigantic energy bow that suddenly was pulled into existence. It widened, became more clear and defined. One enemy noticed it and shouted. Suddenly realizing what it was, they all dove to the floor.

With a sudden "Ha!" Ezreal released his Trueshot Barrage. It passed right over the heads of everyone else, except for Vi, who was just on the edge of it. Looking down, realizing that all of the gangers were on the ground, unable to fight back, Vi realized what Ezreal had done. She charged among them, fists swinging. Over half of them wouldn't get up. The rest were now ranged around her, crowbars meeting fists in a deadly duel of blunt trauma.

Ezreal, on the other hand, was engaged in a duel of precision. With all 4 of the ganger's rifles trained on his piece of cover, given away by the targeting lasers on them, he couldn't step out without being instantly shot. But due to his magic and his glowing gauntlet, he didn't have to walk. Instead, he stepped into the arcane plane for an instant and then stepped back out into the physical plane several feet away from where he'd started. The feedback from the spell was concentrated into a bolt of pure arcane energy, which he directed towards the closest rifleman. It smashed into her chest and she went flying backwards. Ezreal then shot out a quick bolt of energy from his arcane bow, more by instinct than by conscious thought, before ducking behind another piece of cover. That was followed by a cry of pain from the target of his Mystic Shot, a crack from a rifle that went where his head had been an instant before, and a muttered curse from the man whose rifle had shot it. There was another high-pitched whine of a rifle charging. He suddenly realized the fourth rifleman's gun wasn't pointed at him. Turning around, he realized that the targeting dot was actually on Vi's back. He let out a wordless shout and began running towards the melee.

The ganger behind Vi was surprised when a man appeared from seemingly nowhere. He was even more surprised when the man shoved him to the side. He was even more surprised when he heard the crack of a rifle and felt the bullet enter his chest. He slumped to the ground.

Ezreal then whirled around and hurled bolts of energy from his gauntlet to catch 2 gangers in the face. Vi, suddenly not flanked, took the opportunity to swiftly toss a left hook into the woman in front of her, knocking her into the man beside her. Both fell down, stunned.

Another high-pitched whine began emanating from the sniper's nest. Ezreal twisted and fired off a Mystic shot. It went right past the face of the sniper…

And crashed into the power cell behind both of the remaining snipers. The resulting explosion threw the snipers out and onto the ground, smoldering, and caused both Ezreal and Vi to stumble. And, seemingly as suddenly as it began, it was all over. Both fell to the ground, trembling in both exertion and adrenaline.

"Lucky shot," Vi said, lying on the ground, panting.

"Heh. It's all skill," said Ezreal.

"You keep telling yourself that." A pause. "And Genius Boy… thanks. For the save."

"No problem."

"No, really. Lemme treat you to a fun night. Least I could do for saving me from a bullet in the back," Vi insisted.

'A fun night with Vi?' thought Ezreal. 'Sounds dangerous….' After a moment, Ezreal looked up with a smile. "I'm in."

Vi began to trot off. "Hey, let's go the bar next to my place. Bartender there knows me, won't ask questions."

Ezreal started after her, looking behind him at the bodies sprawled on the ground. "What about all… that?"

Vi waved her hand. "Eh, the cleanup crews'll pick 'em up. This shit happens every other week anyways."

Shrugging, Ezreal followed her to the bar.

It was relatively small, but it was almost full. Vi went straight to the bar, flicked the bell with her gigantic gauntlet, and the barman appeared at the _ding_. He greeted Vi with a grunt.

"Hey, a whiskey for me and a glass of milk for my li-" One look at Ezreal's face made her burst out in laughter. "Make that two whiskeys."

The drinks arrived, Vi flicked a few coins the Barkeep's way, drinks were knocked down with alarming speed. More whiskey, more drinking, and the cycle continued.

In fact, in almost no time, Ezreal found himself in a very comfortable position leaning against Vi. He was warm, and he couldn't really tell if that was because of the alcohol, or the fact that Vi's arm was around him. She was busy telling- no, shouting- their deeds across the bar to anyone willing to listen. She was currently laughing at some silly act one of the gangers had done. Ezreal realized his face muscles were slightly sore due to the constant smiling he was doing. Wait, when had he started smiling? Oh well, that didn't really matter. He took another sip of whiskey and swirled it around his tongue, savoring the burn, before swallowing it and feeling both the burn and the warmth as it went down to settle in his stomach.

A few drinks later, he found himself looking at Vi. She'd finished her story, ending with his gallant saving of her. He dimly registered someone from the small crowd around them, shouting something. It was something about her _really_ thanking him. He realized his gaze had been moving steadily down, but hearing cheers, it snapped back up. He realized that Vi was stepping closer to him, and all of a sudden, her lips were on his, nibbling, and the adrenaline rush that the scent of her hair, taste of her lips, feeling from the kiss and her nearness, was heady and shocking. His lips closed around one of hers as well now, and he could feel her responding, pulling the two of them together tightly. And now he was almost desperate for air, not having breathed for what felt like hours in the kiss, yet he was desperate the ensure that it lasted for as long as possible, if only to prolong the intoxicating _closeness_ that the kiss provided.

He didn't realize that his eyes had closed, but when air finally flooded his starved lungs, they snapped open to look at the world with a new clarity. Vi was in front of him, also gasping for breath, and the rest of the world slowly came back into focus, as did the at first subtle, but eventually overwhelming sound of the crowd in front of them cheering. He saw Vi looking at him with a new hunger, and he wasn't sure if he should be scared, or exhilarated.

She called out, "hey boys and girls, I think we're done here tonight." The cheers subsided for a moment. Then she came forward and took Ezreal's hand, beginning to drag the nonplussed Explorer towards the door. The cheering began again as people realized exactly where the pair were going, and a pathway opened up to the door.

From there, it was only a short walk to Vi's apartment. Up one flight of stairs, unlocking a door, the hiss of her gauntlets releasing, it was all a blur to him. All that he could hold onto was the warmth of her body and the sweetness of her lips as she pulled him into the bedroom and the door slammed shut.

* * *

Will there be a part two? Who knows?


	26. Gauntlet Buddies, Part 2 Link

Sorry for being so long and making you guys wait, but here is the next chapter

Ezreal and Vi part two is- you guessed it- a lemon. That means it's not here, but instead, in my second, big-daddy story.

You can get to it through my profile. You can also directly put www . fanfiction . net (/) s/8634274/1/Relationships-rated-C-for-Citrus (without spaces) into your browser without spaces, quotes, or parenthesis (crazy site won't let me use full URLs).

Hope you guys enjoy

-Dorryza


End file.
